


Dead Girl Walking

by Anubis_2701



Series: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Theatre, BOTTOMI, Crossdressing, Dancing and Singing, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Heathers: The Musical References, M/M, Musicals, No Underage Sex, No Volleyball, Rivalry, Set in America, Sexual Tension, Song: Dead Girl Walking, Teenage Drama, Theatre Kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28866141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anubis_2701/pseuds/Anubis_2701
Summary: When their high school decides to put on a 'gender-blind' production of Heathers: The Musical, Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu, rivals since their first day of drama club, are determined to duke it out for the best role.Until they get cast as love interests and leads Veronica and JD. Which requires them to share a few...interestingmusical numbers.What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Komori Motoya & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115333
Comments: 24
Kudos: 231
Collections: Bottomi Week 2021, ♧SakuAtsu Fics♧





	Dead Girl Walking

**Author's Note:**

> SakuAtsu Fluff Week Day 3, Tier 1: Rivals to Lovers
> 
> Major thanks to the three (yes, three) beautiful betas who helped fix this fic up so well; [Luna](https://twitter.com/lunasolaris4), [Blue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesunrays) and [Honeybun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_bunsss). You guys are precious!!!
> 
> I just want to point out before anyone starts reading that this fic is set IN AMERICA and therefore starts in November, ends in roughly May/June, for anyone curious about the timeline.
> 
> Anyone who wants to listen to the Heathers Musical soundtrack can find it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cikbgjAJPBU&ab_channel=ArcticTaco). The main songs used are [Beautiful](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFrmswtFSz0&ab_channel=BarrettWilbertWeed-Topic) and [Dead Girl Walking](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3EyDyxGZn_Y&ab_channel=HeathersMusicalLyrics).
> 
> Enjoy!!!

* * *

**[ [ ACT ONE ] ]**

* * *

_SCENE ONE – ‘HEATHERS’_

_∙_

“I’m sorry, a _what_ musical?” Suna, seated to Atsumu’s left, asked curiously.

“Gender-blind!” their teacher exclaimed again, looking delighted. “Meaning that everyone will be cast regardless of the gender of them or their characters. Simply according to singing ability and capability!”

The group broke into murmurs, some excited, some trepidatious. Atsumu himself sat somewhere between the two, considering the possibility carefully. It would mean having to change up some of the song beats, definitely, to potentially account for lower voices in female roles, or higher voices in male roles, but he didn’t see anything wrong with it.

“Huh, that’ll be interestin’,” Osamu said, eyebrow raised curiously as their teacher tried to corral the room back into some semblance of order – a futile task, considering every person in the room was a dreaded ‘theatre kid’, but he respected the effort – “but what musical?”

“An excellent question, Miya-kun,” their teacher said again, tossing her head back slightly to get hair out of her face, holding thick script books. “I had to do some wrangling to get permission to do this musical, because of the content, but the principal agreed. So, this year, we’ll be doing _Heathers!_ ”

 _That_ statement got even more excited murmuring than her previous announcement, and Atsumu found himself grinning. He had joined the drama club right at the beginning of high school, after being a member during middle school as well, so he’d been invested in it a long time. Being considered obnoxious by the general student population meant that their whole club had gotten very close, and the dislike of the musicals and plays they were usually forced to do was a sentiment that ran deep through them all.

After years of being forced to do old classics like _West Side Story_ and _The Sound of Music_ , or even some Shakespeare numbers with hard-to-memorise lines, it was a breath of fresh air to hear that they would be doing something more modern. Atsumu himself was definitely looking forward to it.

“Anyway,” their teacher smoothly interrupted, “auditions for all the main roles will be on Thursday and Friday, minor roles on Monday and Tuesday next week. Just come ask me for a practice script if you need or want one!”

Atsumu grinned to himself, clapping Osamu and Suna – consistent members of the backstage troop – on the shoulders before jumping happily over the seats in front of him to grab one.

He skidded to a stop before the table where their teacher had laid the scripts, narrowing his eyes at the person ahead of him, who had just grabbed a script, incalculable expression in place. Sakusa noticed his glare, throwing him a callous look in return before a copy of one of the practice scripts was practically thrown at his chest. Atsumu gritted his teeth. How one could make handing someone a sheaf of papers look condescending, he didn’t know, but then, Sakusa had always had a talent for exuding a general aura of apathy and distaste.

“Are you going to actually be trying to audition, Miya?” Sakusa asked coldly, eyes hawkish. “You’d be better off giving up now. They need to give those audition spots to people with actual talent, after all.”

Atsumu smiled at him, all sickening sweetness. The two of them had despised each other from practically their first day at club, when Atsumu had _accidentally_ spilt his iced latte all over the other boy. His many apologies for the incident had gone unheeded, and they’d started off their tenure as clubmates already tense. The exposure of Sakusa’s prickly, sour demeanour over the first of their club meetings had cemented the negative feelings Atsumu had about him.

But generally, for all their feuding and hissing, Atsumu had respect for the other boy. They’d disliked one another, but just fixed the issue by avoiding each other. That had changed when they’d both ended up with identical (perfect) scores on all their drama exams. From that moment, they’d been bitter rivals, determined to outdo the other by gaining better roles in any performances, haranguing others to practice with them, and studying furiously before any exams.

The last two years stuck together had only exasperated said rivalry, to the point that even their roles spoke of their distaste for one another. After all, upon needing actors to play feuding nobles from the Capulet and Montague families for a small _Romeo and Juliet_ production they'd done, Ms Graham had turned to them almost on instinct. Not to mention the time they'd ended up as the ever-snarky Cogsworth and Lumiére in a _Beauty and the Beast_ adaptation. To say the structural integrity of their costumes had been put at risk was an understatement. 

Their rivalry was something of a sore spot for the rest of the club, honestly. The people that knew them best – Atsumu’s twin and Sakusa’s cousin, respectively – had spent more than a little time rolling their eyes at one another over the latest spats. Their teacher, usually so neutral and fair in all matters, had admitted that were it not for their endless fighting, one or both of them would have ended up the club’s president and vice that year.

“Considering how similar our marks fer that last assignment were, I doubt that,” Atsumu said with his grin still in place. “Do ya think this is a good fit for _you_ ? It’s meant to be _fun_ , Omi-kun.”

“Alright, enough of that,” Suna said, waving his hands and glaring at them both, “just get yer scripts and go, alright?”

Atsumu pouted, but obeyed, slinking back over to Osamu, who just rolled his eyes at him. “Ya can never just leave each other alone, can ya?”

“He’s an ass, Samu,” Atsumu grumbled. His twin rolled his eyes.

“Right, whatever. Any roles yer thinkin’ about yet?”

Atsumu hummed, flipping through the practice scripts, eying the small character summaries. He had seen the movie _Heathers_ before, when their parents had taken them to a drive-in movie theatre. He’d liked the movie quite a lot, unsurprising given that he’d always had a penchant for older films, which was part of what made picking one role so hard.

“I dunno,” he chuckled, closing the script and tucking it under his arm as the club members filed out of the room. “Hard to narrow it down since we can audition fer anythin’.”

“Mmm,” Osamu hummed, “better pick somethin’, then.”

“Yeah, yeah, later.”

_SCENE TWO – ‘A SMALL DILEMMA’_

_∙_

Kiyoomi flipped through the script book again, looking over the roles curiously. He had been examining the scenes selected for the auditions for a few hours now, after racing his way through his chemistry and English homework, and though he’d been keeping his mind open for all of them, he was admittedly swaying towards the more prominent ones.

Not least because Miya _fucking_ Atsumu would be relentlessly antagonistic (more so than usual, anyway) if he somehow got a better role in the musical than Kiyoomi.

He scowled to himself as Motoya dropped into the seat next to him, making their couch bounce slightly. Kiyoomi shot him a look that his cousin pointedly ignored, nodding at the script. “So, you going for the main role or not?”

“Veronica?” he said, “I mean…I don’t know…”

“Why not? It ticks all your usual boxes,” his cousin said, snatching one of the ritz crackers that Kiyoomi had shoved onto a plate to snack on while working, tossing it in his mouth and raising an eyebrow. “I mean, you can’t possibly do worse than Atsumu role-wise if you go for it, you’ve got the vocal range for it, I mean even Ms Graham thinks you’re our best singer, _and_ it’s your last musical, might as well go out with a bang,”

Kiyoomi bit his lip. He _was_ reputed as a singer with a large vocal range, so he would be able to hit much higher and lower notes than a lot of other applicants. And to see the look on Atsumu’s face if he got the leading role would be marvellous indeed.

“Alright, I might go for that, then.”

“Nice! Though I hope you know that Ms Graham is planning to keep the original costumes, so enjoy the crossdressing.”

Kiyoomi shrugged, unbothered. “I have the legs to pull off a miniskirt, I’ll be fine.”

He clambered up off the couch as Motoya laughed, ducking into his room and considering the musical as a whole. He hadn’t been too surprised that Ms Graham had gone for an LGBT-inclusive type of take on the musical this year, especially since their school had always been so progressive in that regard. It wasn’t a shock at all, considering they did live in urban Michigan, and that their school had been on a whole pro-acceptance spiel in the last few years.

Not that he was complaining; any opportunity to be the lead in a musical was one he would take happily. So long as Atsumu didn’t try to steal it from him. He scowled at the very thought.

He’d disliked Atsumu since the first time they’d met; first impressions mattered a lot to Kiyoomi, and Atsumu hadn’t made a very good one. But it was everything he’d done since then which had helped engender such dislike between them. Atsumu was everything Kiyoomi disliked in the average person – he was arrogant, loud and constantly trying to steal the spotlight for himself. Kiyoomi didn’t necessarily think he was better than everyone else, but he had a reasonable grasp on how honed his skills were. Atsumu, on the other hand, always touted himself as better than he was.

He was always in Kiyoomi’s space, too, always so chaotic and close that it made an angry heat burn in Kiyoomi’s gut.

The guy was a nightmare, and Kiyoomi wanted to one-up him just one last time. So why not go for the main role? He reasoned. Atsumu was the type to boast about his singing and acting and would undoubtedly go on at length about how good his thighs would look in a skirt if he managed to snag the role of Veronica.

 _But I have a voice with a wider range than him, and probably the favour of Ms Graham too_.

Kiyoomi smiled to himself, flipping through the script-book when he returned to the living room and sat down next to his cousin.

“Veronica it is.”

_SCENE THREE – ‘AUDITIONS’_

_∙_

“So many freshmen,” Osamu muttered, shaking his head at the hordes of chattering underclassmen lined up by the door of the school auditorium, “When are they gonna learn that not every single one ‘em is gonna be the new Meryl Streep?”

Atsumu sighed, rolling his eyes as they gracelessly elbowed their way past. All of the members of the actual theatre club had been given the option of doing their auditions first, before other students got their chance. It wasn’t so much a way to specifically pick out theatre club members for the cast (though they got cast at a far higher rate, because they had, well, _talent)_ as it was to let the people who would be devoting time to the project regardless of casting to avoid the crowds.

It was an initiative Atsumu _loved_ , and he’d managed to bang out his own audition right before Chemistry that morning, even managing to toss a nasty look at Sakusa – slated to audition right after him – as he’d walked out the door. All in all, a good morning.

Ms Graham looked at them like they were godsent saviours once they fought their way over to the backstage area where countless people and club members were milling around. “Oh, thank goodness, can you two start getting down people’s names and sorting them according to what role they want to audition for? I didn’t think we’d have such an influx.”

“Sure thing,” Atsumu chuckled, taking the clipboard offered to him and turning on his heel to approach the crowds of people. “Oi! Line up!”

Having more people around to corral the wild masses of eager underclassmen lifted a huge burden off the panicked club members already flittering around, and it only took about twenty minutes for Atsumu and Osamu’s combined efforts to pay off. Nodding in satisfaction at the neat groupings of people preparing to audition for each character, and the meticulously listed names of every single participant was handed off to Ms Graham with a pair of charming grins.

“Do ya think they’ll be any good?” Osamu asked, nodding at the freshman running up onto the stage. Atsumu hummed.

“Who knows,” he shrugged, smirking, “but I don’t reckon so.”

He was right; some were better than others, but aside from a few surprisingly talented sophomores and juniors, most were lacklustre at best or headache-inducing at worst. Luckily, though, Atsumu knew that most of the roles had essentially always been filled already. They almost always were.

Getting into character himself was almost too easy. He’d seen the film multiple times, as well as gotten ahold of a few bootlegs, specifically for the purpose of ensuring his audition was as polished and appealing as possible. He had no idea what anyone else was auditioning for, but frankly, it wasn’t one of his concerns right now. 

Ms Graham, luckily, seemed keen to get ahold of prospective actors before she had to wade through the endless hordes of less talented underclassmen, and as such, was happy to let him audition first. 

He could practically feel Sakusa’s gaze burning into the side of his head as he went through every coy grin, sharp line and did his best to exude a dark kind of charisma. It would have been distracting, but Atsumu was far too used to being the subject of Sakusa’s glare by now to feel anything. 

He bowed out of the auditorium with the distinct impression he was practically a shoe-in for the part, and took a victorious moment to smirk at Sakusa’s oddly drawn expression as he was leaving.

“What? Ya got a problem?” he said, keeping his voice low to avoid attracting Ms Graham’s ire. “Or are ya just disappointed ya might not get the role ya wanted?” He’d assumed from the moment the musical was announced that Sakusa, sharp and blunt and able to carry so much resentment with so few words, would go for the same jaded role he’d just auditioned for. Sakusa narrowed his eyes.

“That won’t be a problem,” he said, voice silky, “I just didn’t know you were auditioning for J.D.”

Atsumu cocked his head to the side, a vindictive smile rising to his face. “Well-”

“We have class, dipshit,” Osamu interrupted, elbowing through the masses and shooting him an exasperated look. “Leave the other auditionees alone.” Then, with a nod to Sakusa, he dragged Atsumu away remorselessly, deaf to Atsumu’s complaints that his twin hadn’t let him get the final word in.

“Ya don’t need the final word, ya insufferable prick,” Osamu sighed. “Ya two are insane.”

“Whatever,” Atsumu huffed. “We’ll see who’s laughin’ when the cast list comes out.”

As it turned out; nobody. Because, as Atsumu realised with a dawning sense of horror, he had actually never stopped to confirm that Sakusa had been going for the same role as him.

A poor decision, since clearly, he hadn’t been.

The final cast list was posted four days after auditions wrapped, on the school’s massive arts corkboard outside the auditorium, at approximately noon. It took ten minutes for news to reach Atsumu that the cast list was up, and a further fifteen for him to finish Chemistry and make his way over to see it.

And upon reading said list, it took him less than 60 seconds to regret everything in his life up to that point.

  * **Veronica Sawyer** – Kiyoomi Sakusa 
  * **Jason ‘J.D.’ Dean** – Atsumu Miya
  * **Heather Chandler** – Keiji Akaashi
  * **Heather Duke** – Kenjirou Shirabu
  * **Heather McNamara** – Shouyou Hinata
  * **Martha Dunnstock** – Sou Inuoka
  * **Ram Sweeney** – Yukie Shirofuku
  * **Kurt Kelly** – Kaori Suzumeda



Usually, seeing his name on one of the lists was a source of relief and pride.

Keyword being _usually_. Because he had been cast as J.D., and Sakusa had been cast as Veronica.

Oh god, that meant he would have to _kiss Sakusa._

“Oh god, the auditorium is going to get burned down,” someone muttered behind him as he numbly took in the role he’d been given by Ms Graham…and the person assigned to the role right above it.

“Be civilised,” Osamu sighed, rolling his eyes at Atsumu, “ya wanted to get a good role because this is yer last performance, right? So, don’t go ahead and fuck this up just because ya wanna be petty.”

“That’ll be hard for him,” Sakusa said, voice snide and cold behind him. Atsumu rolled his eyes, spinning around to glare at the taller boy.

“Why don’t ya worry about yerself? Ya got way more songs to memorise than I do.”

Sakusa raised an eyebrow. “I know. Such a tragedy.”

“Forget the auditorium,” someone muttered, “none of the club’ll survive this.”

“Sakusa! Miya! There you both are! I’ve been meaning to speak with you both,” Ms Graham’s cheerful voice sliced through the odd tension in the air. “Follow me, please.”

They exchanged one last livid look before following her, not missing how the people around them sighed with relief before going back to discussing the casting list. Atsumu stowed his hands in his pockets as Ms Graham ushered them into her small office, sitting behind her desk with a polite smile.

“Now, as I’m sure you both know, you two have been cast as our leads,” she said, smiling happily, “both of your auditions were excellent, and your experience in this club and our past productions was even more reason to cast you two as such.” Atsumu shuffled, briefly wondering what Sakusa’s audition had been like before Ms Graham’s smile turned a little sharper. “With that being said, I am fully aware the two of you do not get along well. But I truly believe that your talents compliment one another beautifully. Working together, I expect this musical to become something special.”

Atsumu shuffled, feeling appropriately scolded even without any cruel words from the teacher. She’d always had a talent for that. Ms Graham folded her arms, leaning forwards and frowning slightly. “In order for this production to work, though, I need that to actually happen. I need you two to _work together_ . You can keep your personal issues backstage. The minute you are under that spotlight, your conflicts are irrelevant. All that matters is that you, Atsumu, are J.D., and you, Sakusa, are Veronica. And I expect you to embrace _every_ aspect of those characters and this story.”

“Yes, Ms Graham,” they both mumbled. She smiled happily.

“Wonderful! Now, how about I get you two your scripts?”

_SCENE FOUR – ‘TABLE READS’_

_∙_

Kiyoomi frowned at the text on his phone, pulling the warm folds of his scarf tighter up around his mouth as he scanned the storefronts. The information had seemed nice and straightforward when he’d first gotten the text that morning, but he hadn’t counted on snow descending so fast on the city. He was thankful he’d walked down early, otherwise he would have been buried on his way into town.

Ms Graham had been the one to insist he and Atsumu exchange phone numbers. “You two will need to do private practices together, after all! You’re our leads, you need to be well acquainted with all your scenes together!”

They’d created contacts for one another with more than a little reluctance, both gleefully assigning mildly abusive nicknames to each other – Atsumu was ‘ass-shit-moo’ in Kiyoomi’s phone, and Kiyoomi had been dubbed ‘sasquatch without the sexy intrigue’ by Atsumu. A nickname he didn’t entirely understand, to be completely honest, since he and Atsumu had only a few centimetres difference in height.

He’d said that to Atsumu’s face at the time, which the other hadn’t been too happy about. At the end of the day, though, they’d exchanged numbers as Ms Graham had wished. Though, it was something Kiyoomi was regretting more and more with each successive day.

For one, Atsumu was a quadruple texter on the best of days, and seemed to take immense delight in sending him the most annoying possible messages, at the most inconvenient times as well. Kiyoomi had taken to scheduling texts to be sent in the middle of classes as revenge – he’d known the other boy long enough to know he never put his phone on silent – and he had to say, watching him get his phone taken away four times in one week was very satisfying.

But occasionally, he was reminded of the fact that they’d exchanged numbers for a reason other than antagonism. Like today, when he and Atsumu had decided to meet up and do some script reads.

“Roko’s Diner,” he muttered to himself, squinting at multiple sets of neon lights, trying to decipher which one appeared to better fit the aesthetic of an all-American diner that, according to one online review, offered “the glory of Texas on a plate”. Which was a terrifying statement in its own right, much more so in the context of it being food he might have to actually _eat_.

 _Besides,_ he thought, _we live in fucking Michigan. Why do we_ **_need_ ** _Texas on a plate?_

He decided to risk going for the building on the right, trudging through thick mounds of fresh snow to get to the door, sighing in relief when it swung open into a large dining room lit in gentle red, adorned with 50s-style booths and memorabilia. He scrubbed his brow tiredly. He should have brought his glasses for this. He could read fine without them, but distance got progressively harder without their help.

“Over here!” Atsumu’s familiar voice chimed out to his left, drawing his attention to a small booth where the other boy seemed to have already sprawled out his script and notes all over the table. Kiyoomi adjusted his bag strap on his shoulder and made his way over, sliding into the seat opposite him. “I was thinkin’ we could do a read on our characters’ first meetin’ scene,” the blond said, diving right into things. Kiyoomi held himself back from rolling his eyes, pulling his own script out.

“I’ve read the whole thing, which is something you could stand to do” he said sharply, eying the menu for a moment and wondering if it was worth clogging his arteries to eat something before deciding against it. A drink would suffice, he supposed.

Atsumu sighed, head dropping slightly before he raised it again, staring determinedly at Kiyoomi. “Alright, I’m gettin’ this outta the way quick.” He jabbed a finger in Kiyoomi’s face. “I hate ya.”

“Stellar,” Kiyoomi droned. “Any more revelations you want to pile on me?”

Atsumu’s eyes crinkled with anger. “Can ya not shut up fer two minutes-”

“Not when you start whatever idiotic point you’re trying to make like  _ that _ ,” Kiyoomi spat. Atsumu fell silent for a moment, breathing deep and controlled. For a spilt second, he wondered if the other would take his frustration to physical blows.They’d never yet fought with more than words, but there was a first time for everything.

“Lemme rephrase,” Atsumu said through gritted teeth. “We don’t get along very well. Everyone knows it.” Kiyoomi huffed. Understatement, but he would let it slide. “Frankly, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be workin’ with ya at all.”

“Is this you trying to be  _ diplomatic? _ ” Kiyoomi sneered. “Because if so, you need a dictionary more than you do an attitude adjustment.”

Atsumu clamped his mouth shut again, looking borderline murderous for a moment before ploughing onwards.

“Shut yer trap and  _ listen _ for five seconds,” he spat. “It’s clear we ain’t the best of friends, alright, and we bitch at each other with every spare breath we got.  _ But  _ this, in case ya were too self-absorbed to notice, is our last musical. Our last chance to contribute somethin’ to the club and fer both of us it’s our first time being leads.” It was true, Ms Graham had tried to keep them and their animosity low-key, and thus avoided any competition arising from giving them both starring roles. 

“...True,” Kiyoomi sniffed. Atsumu rolled his eyes again.

“The point I’m tryna make is that I ain’t throwin’ away a chance to make this thing really fuckin’ good fer the sake of fightin’ with ya. We’ve been at each others’ throats for two straight years, we can spare some time to let it rest fer the sake of makin’ this musical good.”

_ We’ve been at each other's throats for so long because you’re an arrogant, entitled, insensitive asshole, _ Kiyoomi thought furiously to himself. That was an irrefutable fact. But…

He couldn’t deny that Atsumu had a very good point. This was their senior year. Their last musical. He had never cared much about ‘going out with a bang’ but he definitely didn’t want to be the person who went out in a proverbial firefight with  _ Atsumu Miya _ of all people.

“So what are you saying?” Kiyoomi asked, eying Atsumu keenly.

The blond sighed.“I propose a truce. As long as we’re focusin’ on this musical, I ain’t gonna put up with fightin’ between us. We got a deal?”

Kiyoomi blinked, still irritated but unwilling to let Atsumu accept the role of ‘bigger person’ in the room. “Fine. Deal.”

“Aight,” Atsumu leant back, looking contented, “shall we start our read-through then?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

It was a good, neutral place to start. So far they had only read their scripts and had their measurements taken for the costumes that Ms Graham’s troupe of sewing enthusiasts would be diligently making. It was only December, and the proper performances would only start in May, but the whole club’s devotion to make the musical amazing meant that some people were already going hard on table-reads, researching and listening to the musical soundtrack on loop.

And this agreement of theirs signified a certain level of devotion, too, Kiyoomi was certain.

Atsumu flipped through his script as Kiyoomi found the scene – one he’d marked with a sticky note for easy access. He smiled ever so slightly at the notes he and Motoya had scrawled around the margins together. His script looked immaculate from the outside, but a single glimpse within exposed endless notations, arrows and tips he’d added to it.

Atsumu’s own script looked very different – the outside was battered and a little dirty, probably from being carelessly thrown into bags and onto tables – but Kiyoomi was surprised to see the inside pages were immaculate, sections of dialogue neatly and concisely highlighted. The contrast was stark. _Just one more thing we don’t have in common_ , Kiyoomi mused.

“You shouldn’t have bowed down to the Swatch-dogs and Diet-Cokeheads. They’re gonna crush that girl,” Atsumu read out neatly, voice full of the drawling inflections the role demanded. Kiyoomi shuffled, tossing his hair back a little before adopting the wide-eyed, surprised look that his keen watching of the original movie and musical bootlegs alike had told him would work well.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Atsumu straightened up across the table from him, sighing slightly and taking an almost debonair air. Kiyoomi watched him curiously. Atsumu was generally a good actor, something even his cynical ass could admit – the two of them got cast in high-ranked (but never starring) roles so consistently _because_ they had talent, as their current assignments proved – but he was slipping so easily into the role of J.D. that it was honestly impressive.

“You’ve clearly got a soul. You just need to work harder keeping it clean,” he said, voice smooth and calm, “we are all born marked for evil.” He feigned shutting the script he’d been reading off, leaning back in his chair with a grin. Kiyoomi just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes, oddly amused by the other boy’s theatrics.

“Okay, don’t quote Baudelaire at me and walk away, excuse me?” he said, injecting just enough presumptuous pep to pull off the more ‘popular’ side of Veronica before softening his voice, tilting his head to the side a bit, “didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t throw it,” Atsumu said, tone full of the usual smugness that saturated his voice, for once more engaging than aggravating. Kiyoomi leant back as well, debating what to even say. The scene had been a brief one, just a small preview for the interactions their characters would have later, but he could already pick up on the odd, almost kinetic feeling between them. Despite it being a simple table-read, with only emotional inflections added, he already felt more immersed in the role.

“Can I grab you anything, sweetie?” a waitress asked, appearing at the side of their booth and smiling at Kiyoomi. He shifted, glancing at the menu again.

“Just a peanut butter milkshake, thanks,” he murmured, handing the menu to her as she departed with a grin. Atsumu pouted slightly at him.

“Aww, come on, I go outta my way to recommend the food here and ya just ignore it?”

“Your recommendation is the reason I’m avoiding it,” he snarked back. Atsumu shrugged, not taking the bait to fight as he usually would (though the tension in his jaw and fire in his eyes gaze gave away how much he wanted to) his hand instead straying over to the basket of curly fries he’d evidently already ordered.

“Suit yerself,” he said, “anyways, what next?”

“Chandler’s death scene?”

“Aight.”

* * *

**[ [ ACT TWO ] ]**

* * *

_SCENE ONE – ‘WANDERING GAZE’_

_∙_

Honestly, the fact that he and Sakusa had abided by their agreement and hadn’t gone for each other’s throats yet was something of a miracle, as January descended over them and their reads together continued. Atsumu had memorised a good chunk of his scenes for Act One, and he’d heard from Akaashi, the club member who’d been assigned the role of Heather Chandler – a hilarious casting choice that for whatever reason, worked _absurdly_ well – that while Sakusa was still chipping away at his dialogue, he was already getting a very good grasp on the songs.

They’d done some rehearsals of the first few scenes already, with the whole club present, and Atsumu had been pleasantly surprised by how well things were turning out already. He’d questioned how the casting of men in female roles would affect the songs, but Ms Graham had taken that into consideration. A lot of the singers had voices with wide ranges, including surprisingly high notes.

Sakusa’s vocal range had always been impressive – anyone who’d seen him in their previous musicals knew he was able to switch between rather high and low notes with ease. But Atsumu hadn’t quite realised that Sakusa had never really used the full range of his voice in their past musicals.

Until, that is, they had their first proper practice.

Atsumu had listened to the cast recording of the musical countless times, so he knew essentially all the words to it’s opening song ‘Beautiful’. But he hadn’t known what to expect when Sakusa and the rest of the cast (he himself was exempt) were called up to try out the first song.

And as much as he still found the other annoying – if a little more entertaining now, after he’d been able to observe how his nose scrunched up happily when drinking a peanut butter milkshake – he couldn’t deny that when Sakusa opened his mouth and started to sing, he was more than a little enraptured by it.

The opening section was nothing too shocking, mostly since it was more spoken than sung, though Atsumu would admit to blinking in surprise at how animated Sakusa became. It was just another song, then-

_“But I know…I know…life can be beautiful…”_

Atsumu froze from where he’d been shuffling through his script, looking up. He could only really see Sakusa on stage from his low vantage point – seated cross-legged on the ground in the aisles – but even had the entire rest of the chorus been singing with him, he likely wouldn’t have paid their voices any mind. The other boy didn’t look particularly spectacular that day; his hair was mussed up, the shirt he was wearing was faded, and there were scuff marks along the backs of his shoes. But his voice was overwhelmingly beautiful, and for a moment, Atsumu let himself ignore their animosity and simply…enjoy it.

And it would have been fine if he’d just let himself admire Sakusa’s talent; years spent together on a club specialising in plays and musicals meant that for as much as they went for one another’s throats, they were capable of acknowledging and respecting each other’s talent. But the problem he had wasn’t that he was admiring Sakusa’s talent.

No, once again, he'd fallen prey to an old, borderline disturbing vice of his. He and Sakusa hated each other, but... well...

For all his pride and snarkiness, Sakusa was very good-looking. He had always been a magnet for hopeful girls and guys seeking to land a date or two, so it wasn’t exactly news. But Atsumu had never before let himself (outwardly) be among those admiring the sharp line of his jaw, the prominence of his cheekbones or the rich, inky colour of his curls. Until now, that was.

His only saving grace was his own dalliances with other students; he’d observed so many attractive people over the years (and slept with them as well) that he had long since learned how to either shove his attraction to the back of his mind or observe the object of such attraction very subtly.

Where other members of their club were more obvious, he was cautious and laid low. He didn’t stare shamelessly at Sakusa when the other was flawlessly belting out songs during practice. He waited until the moments right after, to steal a glance that could easily be interpreted as assessing, and raked his eyes up a lean figure and astonishing bone structure.

At the end of the day, Atsumu was a teenage boy. And angry glares, threateningly in-your-face arguments and snide comments made an excellent backdrop for the kind of fantastical homoerotic tension that filled so many movies he'd watched. There was nothing appealing about the idea of holding hands with a snarky, cold jerk like him. But when watching movies or TV shows, and seeing scenes where rival characters slammed each other up against a wall, or threatened each other with words while their eyes screamed _bedroom?_ He wasn't averse to that.

He almost couldn’t believe it himself sometimes. Of all people for his hormonal brain to latch onto and turn into a sex fantasy, it picked _Sakusa Kiyoomi?_ The very concept was bizarre, but he didn’t think too much of it. Sakusa had always been attractive, so it stood to reason that some of their friction was sexual tension. He would admit to wanting to fuck the guy, but that was the extent of any desire for closeness.

Sakusa was hot, nothing else.

_SCENE TWO – ‘SHOULD WE PRACTICE?’_

_∙_

_Sakusa was hot, nothing else._

That was a mantra Atsumu maintained right up until mid-January, when he knocked on Sakusa’s front door to do another practice, and the other boy swung it open, blinking at him. At that moment, Atsumu learned two things.

  1. Sakusa Kiyoomi had glasses. Round one with thin gold frames that would have well suited any fantasy wizard, but somehow looked equally fitting on him.
  2. Sakusa looked hot normally, but he looked absolutely _adorable_ with said glasses on.



And, Atsumu realised with dawning horror, as he was ushered inside and instructed to remove his shoes and coat, that him considering prickly, nasty Sakusa Kiyoomi _cute_ had never been on his plans.

Things only got worse as he realised that Sakusa’s clothes only added to the image; he was wearing a loose wool cardigan, soft black pants and fuzzy socks with little cartoon pieces of toast on them, each of which was adorned with a little smile. He stared down at them with wide eyes for a moment, just barely recollecting himself as he was escorted into a very nicely decorated living area.

“Are ya sure yer parents don’t mind us practicin’ here?” he asked as he set down his bag, feeling afraid of leaving so much as a stray dust mote in the pristine house. Sakusa just shrugged.

“They’re not around much. They don’t care.”

“Oh,” Atsumu said, shuffling a little uncomfortably in the wake of _that_ revelation before following Sakusa’s lead and sitting down, his eyes straying down to his feet again. “Nice socks.”

Sakusa shifted, eyes widening slightly behind the lens of his glasses. “Oh, thanks. Motoya got me them as a birthday gift last year.”

“As…like…an _ironic_ birthday gift?”

Sakusa cocked his head, puzzled. “No?”

Atsumu stared at him a moment, absorbing that strange piece of information. “Right. Anyway, we gonna practice or nah?”

“Yeah. Are we including singing this time around? Our walls are quite soundproofed.”

“Sure, in that case.”

It was easy enough to get through their first scenes together, before diving into the scene where their characters traipsed to Heather Chandler’s house to accidentally kill her. He opened his script to scene seven, skimming it and flushing slightly as Sakusa got to his feet, crossing over to the kitchen, which had an island that would work well for the blocking of the scene.

Sakusa tossed his curly hair back, eyed Atsumu sharply, and instantaneously slipped into the character of Veronica Sawyer. It wasn’t hard to see the difference; when playing a part, Sakusa pushed his shoulders back more, maintained eye contact even when it burned, and generally came off as much more confident.

The other boy pivoted, calling out to the room with ease, “Heather?”

Atsumu relaxed, rolling his shoulders back. Show time. “Maybe she’s not here.”

Sakusa threw him the light, playful look that Ms Graham had advised for this scene. “Trust me. She skips the Saturday morning trip to Grandma's even when she's not hung over.” He took another step into the kitchen, swivelling his head slightly. “Heather!”

“Then Akaashi will yell, obviously,” Sakusa muttered, clearing his throat again. “It’s Veronica! I’m here to apologise.”

“Cue Akaashi’s next line,” Atsumu said, smirking. Sakusa rolled his eyes.

“What’s in that?” he said, working off memory to recall that Akaashi’s line as Chandler involved some mention of a prairie oyster. “Raw egg, vinegar…”

“…hot sauce, Worcester, salt and pepper,” Atsumu supplied as J.D., moving in the rough direction the cupboards would be and pulling out a mug. Sakusa cocked his head to the side before delivering his next line.

“You know your hangover cures.” That was definitely a knowing smirk Atsumu could see on Sakusa’s face, and he struggled to hide his own. The guy was nothing if not talented at throwing jabs where possible.

“My dad taught me all kinds of stuff,” he said, leaning back against the bench as Sakusa feigned gathering ingredients for the drink.

“Oh hey,” Sakusa said, wicked smile in place, “here's my revenge. I'm gonna drop a phlegm globber in her prairie oyster. She'll never know.” He proceeded to do a _very_ convincing imitation of such, before Atsumu, recalling the scene blocking they’d gone over in practice, feigned grabbing drain cleaner.

“I’m a ‘No Rust Buildup’ man myself,” he joked, wiggling his hand slightly. Sakusa frowned, voice softening startlingly, in line with the script.

“Don’t be a dick, that stuff’ll kill her,” he chided, perfectly capturing the same tone that Winona Ryder had in the movie.

“Thus ending her hangover,” Atsumu shrugged, all macabre charm as the play demanded, “I say we go with Big Blue.”

“What are you doing? You just can't go…besides, she'd never drink anything that looks like that.”

“We'll use a mug. She won't be able to tell what she's drinking.” He reasoned, grinning again slightly. Sakusa broke character for a moment to roll his eyes again, before resuming the scene flawlessly.

“Forget it.”

“Chi-cken.” He taunted.

The look Sakusa shot him then was so withering he was astonished he wasn’t rendered to dust on the spot. He hid a shiver. Sakusa really was far too good an actor. “You're not funny.” Sakusa said.

His stomach flipped, less for the line and more for what he knew came next in the script. “Okay, I'm sorry.” He paused, cocking his head to the side, bemused when Sakusa blushed slightly.

“We’re doing the full run-through,” Sakusa muttered. Atsumu nodded, once again adopting the apologetic look he’d borne a moment earlier.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he repeated, before stepping forwards, wrapping an arm around Sakusa’s waist, and pulling him into a kiss.

He should have enjoyed kissing his long-time rival less than he did. Hell, he shouldn’t have enjoyed it at all. But Sakusa’s mouth was warm, lips soft and touched slightly with the taste of coffee, and the feel of one of the other boy’s slender hands planting itself on his chest didn’t help abate the warmth being stirred up in his gut. He knew this was just a part of the scene – a somewhat pivotal part, he recalled as he felt Sakusa fumble for one of the mugs – but that didn’t stop his heart from fluttering with a strange sense of delight.

They had probably let the kiss run too long, when Sakusa finally pulled away, red from the roots of his hair to the base of his neck, staring at him wordlessly for a moment.

Atsumu blinked, gesturing to the mug in his hand. “Uh, ya gotta…”

Sakusa jumped like he’d been shocked before he rushed to complete the scene, muttering that they could wait to practice the actual death scene when Akaashi was around. They shifted onto the scene after, running through it seamlessly before Sakusa fumbled for his phone and started playing the instrumental version of ‘A Me Inside of Me’.

“Dear world... _believe it or not, I knew about fear. I knew the way loneliness...stung. I hid behind smiles and crazy hot clothes. I learned to kiss boys with my tongue.”_ Atsumu found his stomach fluttering. Sakusa’s singing was always good, but it felt a little weird to listen to him sing about stuff like _that_ , right after they had kissed.

But it wasn’t an entirely bad weird, to think about kissing Sakusa.

That, really, was when it hit him. They’d kissed. For a scene, yes, but they’d still kissed.

He had _kissed_ Sakusa Kiyoomi.

It made him a little quiet as Sakusa ran through whatever remained of their joint parts in the scene, before flipping through to scene eight. “Oi.”

“What?”

“Ya ain’t very experienced with kissin’ people, are ya?” he said, cocking his head to the side. Sakusa’s blush resurfaced with a vengeance as the boy himself averted his eyes.

“How’s that any of your business, Miya?” he asked snappily. Atsumu watched him a moment, let his gaze slide down to the other boy’s lips.

He didn’t like Sakusa, not in the slightest. But damn if he didn’t find him hot as hell.

“Well, we gotta do it a few times in the musical,” he shrugged, before walking out of the kitchen, towards the couch and gesturing for Sakusa to follow. “Might as well get accustomed to the feeling.”

Sakusa was rapidly approaching purple in colour when Atsumu flopped down onto the comfortable couch and patted the space next to him. He hesitated for a moment before taking the proffered space, fidgeting a little. Atsumu chuckled. “Calm down, I ain’t gonna jump ya.”

Sakusa gave him a baleful glare. “How many times do our characters kiss?”

“Uhh,” he wracked his brain, “well there’s the one during the, uh, Dead Girl Walking song-” he struggled not to blush at the reminder – they had yet to practice _that_ particular scene – “and then there’s the one where they’re going to Chandler’s, and another _at_ Chandler’s, the one we did before, and-”

“Whatever,” Sakusa said, shuffling up the couch and grabbing Atsumu’s collar, “come on.”

“I-”

He was cut off as Sakusa pressed their lips together, moving closer to cup Atsumu’s jaw somewhat awkwardly in his hand. Atsumu sighed slightly, adjusting his grip to make it less strange before threading his fingers through dark curls. The script never called for him to grab Sakusa by the hair, but neither did it ask for them to cup one another’s faces very much, so he counted it as acceptable enough.

Sakusa pulled back a bit, “I…was thinking. Our scene in the kitchen says they kiss ‘deep and slow’, and Veronica has to be distracted enough that grabbing the wrong mug seems believable-”

Atsumu cut him off this time, kissing him again and wasting little time before sliding his tongue into the other boy’s mouth. Sakusa made a sound, a low whine that stirred heat in Atsumu’s gut. He shivered when their tongues slid against one another, letting their bodies stay pressed against one another for a moment longer than necessary before pulling away and smirking. “Was that ‘deep and slow’ enough?”

Sakusa looked like a rumpled mess, hair askew on one side, cheeks red and eyes a little hazy. One shoulder of his oversized sweater had slipped down, exposing pale skin. Atsumu resisted the urge to sink his teeth into it.

“It’ll do,” he said, still as proud as ever. “Though you’d better brush your teeth before we do this scene in the actual musical. Do you always stink this much?”

Atsumu chuckled. Seeing the other trying to maintain his usual air of snarkiness even in the face of embarrassment was always funny. It was one of the things he actually liked about the other.

The thought made him freeze. Oh shit. Oh _no_.

“So, let’s get onto scene eight,” Sakusa said, straightening up and fixing his sweater, all professionalism again. Atsumu nodded slowly, finding the place in his own script as he desperately tried to focus on the words.

 _This isn’t good_.

_SCENE THREE – ‘AN IMPORTANT TALK’_

_∙_

Kiyoomi had known it was coming. He had known that sooner or later, they would need to practice it. Doing that scene on their premiere night was just asking for something to go wrong, in a way that was horrible, humiliating and probably mortifying as well.

But he hadn’t expected Ms Graham to be the one who initiated the conversation about actually practicing it.

“Sakusa! Mind if I talk to you for a moment?”

He’d been expecting the summons soon enough. They’d been instructed to practice scenes with only a few people in them in private, so that large-scale scenes could be done with the whole cast present. They’d done rundowns of ‘Beautiful’, ‘Candy Store’ and ‘Big Fun’ that day for that very reason. And they’d all gone off without a hitch. Most people had questioned the casting for a while; Akaashi as Chandler, Hinata as McNamara and the usually incorrigible Shirabu Kenjirou as Duke. It was a cast that by all means shouldn’t work, but somehow did, and to perfection at that.

(Though, their practice was admittedly complicated at times by Akaashi’s footballer boyfriend Bokuto wandering in to stare at Akaashi like he’d hung the stars in the sky, and by the united screams of shock of half the chorus when Hinata had gleefully sung the line “time for you to prove you’re not a _pussy_ anymore!” at top volume.)

But their pieces so far had gone off without a hitch. Their ensemble pieces were going well, exceptionally so considering they still had three months before performances started. Thus, he was a little surprised to see Ms Graham gesturing to him, but he followed her anyway.

“Now, as you know, I’ve been checking in on everyone doing private scenes, and as our main characters, it’s extra important I do so for you and Atsumu.”

He blinked, but nodded in comprehension. “Right.”

“Right, well, I’ve been meaning to ask you about one scene in particular. I’ve run this musical three times before when I worked at other schools, and this scene is always the one that gets the two leads embarrassed.” She rubbed her temples. “So, I felt I should ask, before any issues get too big to solve. Have you and Atsumu practiced the ‘Dead Girl Walking’ scene yet?”

Kiyoomi felt his face turn red. “…No.”

“Right, understandable. I know it’s a strange scene to have to practice, considering the song lyrics and choreography, but full run-throughs are going to start in a month or so, and I don’t want us falling behind on any aspect. So maybe consider practicing it soon?”

“Yes, Ms Graham.”

“Good. Let me know if any issues arise. Have you and Atsumu been getting along alright?”

Kiyoomi’s mind flashed to warm lips and a hand pulling addictively at his hair, before quashing the thought mercilessly. It was stage kissing. Just stage kissing. And he and Atsumu were supposed to hate each other. 

“We’ve been alright. We get along much better when we’re able to focus on the musical, I think.” Of course, that peace they’d maintained would likely shatter after they were done with this, and they’d go back to snarking and sniping at every opportunity.

He didn’t know why the thought made his stomach turn uncomfortably.

“Excellent!” Ms Graham interrupted his thoughts with a small clap. “I knew you two would be a good pair for the leads. I’m eager to see your scenes in the rehearsals!”

Kiyoomi smiled, wishing his stomach wasn’t tying itself in so many knots.

“Me too.”

_SCENE FOUR – ‘DEAD GIRL WALKING’_

_∙_

“I think we should practice the Dead Girl Walking scene,” Kiyoomi said, bulldozing over whatever Atsumu had been opening his mouth to say as he opened the door to let the blond in. “Ms Graham mentioned we should have basically all scenes in practice by now.” She hadn’t said anything of the sort, but Kiyoomi would rather not think about all the reasons that, as she’d mentioned, actors would find the scene awkward.

 _Especially teenage actors, fucking hell_.

“Oh, uh-”

“My parents aren’t here so the singing isn’t an issue,” he said brusquely, opening his door wider, “come on.”

Atsumu followed him into his house mutely, eyes wide with surprise when Kiyoomi dared glance back at him. He swallowed as Atsumu dumped his bags near the couch, turning away at the other boy’s expectant look. “Maybe…we shouldn’t practice this scene here.”

“Oh, ha, right,” Atsumu said, “uh…yer bedroom, then?”

God, this day was fulfilling a few too many of Kiyoomi’s most bizarre dreams about his rival. “Yeah, that works.”

He traipsed up the stairs, hesitating before he let Atsumu into his room, watching the other look around curiously, gaze catching on vintage movie posters and his corkboard, stuffed full of the teasing messages he and Motoya passed between themselves during class. After a moment of awkward lingering, Atsumu sat down on the edge of Kiyoomi’s bed, looking hesitant.

“Take your shoes off and lie down,” Kiyoomi said, fidgeting awkwardly. “Should I start the song from the beginning?”

“Sure, I mean, ya gotta practice yer whole bit,” Atsumu said, shrugging as he laid down carefully on Kiyoomi’s bed, “so go for it.”

Kiyoomi hummed, fiddling with his phone to bring up the instrumental version of the song. “You know the choreography Ms Graham chose, right?”

Atsumu nodded, and with his confirmation, Kiyoomi had run out of reasons to hesitate. He queued the music up to play, lingering on the other side of the room as Atsumu drummed his fingers on his stomach and feigned sleep.

 _“The demon queen of high school has decreed it….She says Monday, 8 a.m, I will be deleted... They'll hunt me down in study hall, stuff and mount me on the wall...Thirty hours to live…How shall I spend them...?”_ he sang, eyes tracing the room. They would have a much larger stage to play this out on during actual performances, but for now, the confines of his bedroom dictated their limits.

 _“I don't have to stay and die like cattle, I could change my name and ride up to Seattle. But I don't own a motorbike…_ **_wait_ ** _, here's an option that I like. Spend these 30 hours gettin' freakyyyyy, yeah!”_

Kiyoomi had always liked this song. It had a punchy feel to it, the rebellious lyrics and upbeat tune adding to make it an addictive earworm of a piece. The inherent humour it provided helped a lot too.

 _“I need it hard-”_ he didn’t think he mistook a slight wheeze of shock from Atsumu when that line came around, _“-I'm a dead girl walking. I'm in your yard, I'm a dead girl walking. Before they punch my clock, I'm snappin' off your…window lock. Got no time to knock, I'm a dead girl walking…”_

Atsumu had clearly done his research on this scene as Kiyoomi stalked over to him. “Veronica! What are you doing in my room…?”

“Shhh,” Kiyoomi pressed a finger to Atsumu’s mouth as he stepped closer, relaxing as he continued. _“Sorry, but I really had to wake you….see I’ve decided I must ride you til I break you…”_ he **definitely** didn’t miss a small intake of breath from Atsumu as he propped one knee up on the side of the bed, still leaning over him _. “’Cause Heather says I gots to go, you're my last meal on death row. Shut your mouth and lose them tighty-whites, yeahhh-”_

At that, he clambered up onto the mattress properly, swinging his legs over Atsumu’s hips so he could sit in his lap _. “Come on! Tonight I'm yours, I'm your dead girl walking…”_ he shuffled slightly on Atsumu’s lap, letting his weight settle fully on his pelvis, _“get on all fours,”_ he threaded his fingers through Atsumu’s hair and jerked his head forward, _“Kiss this dead girl walking…Let's go, you know the drill, I'm hot and pissed and on the pill. Bow down to the will of a dead girl walking…”_

Atsumu’s hands came to rest on his hips, grip firm but gentle as he stared into Kiyoomi’s eyes. He paused, stunned for a moment before the sudden drop in the music reminded him that they were supposed to be practicing. He cupped Atsumu’s face in his hands. Ms Graham hadn’t called for it in the choreography, but he felt a few small deviations would be okay.

_“And you know, you know, you know…it's 'cause you're beautiful. You say you're numb inside, but I can't agree. So, the world's unfair…keep it locked out there…in here it's beautiful…let's make this beautiful…”_

_“That works for me,”_ Atsumu murmured, wrapping his arms tighter around Kiyoomi and pulling their chests flush together as the music took over, pressing their lips together fiercely, hands pushing at Kiyoomi’s clothes. Atsumu would actually have to strip him (his top half, anyway) during the scene, but it was hard to practice without their actual outfits. Still, the feeling of Atsumu’s hands snaking under his shirt and skimming along his bare back was…something.

He pulled away reluctantly, throwing his head back with the energetic ‘yeah!’ that the song required. _“Full steam ahead! Take this dead girl walking!”_

_“How’d you find my address-”_

_“Let's break the bed!_ **_Rock_ ** _this dead girl walking!”_ he shamelessly ground his hips down at the word ‘rock’, making Atsumu’s eyes widen before he gasped out his next line.

_“I think you tore my mattress-”_

_“No sleep tonight for you! Better chug that Mountain Dew!”_

_“Okay, okay!”_

_“Get your ass in gear, make this whole town disappear!”_

_“Okay, okay-”_

_“Slap me, pull my hair-”_ right on cue, Atsumu’s hand wove through his curls and tugged slightly. _“Touch me there and there and there-”_ with each word, he shifted Atsumu’s hands from first his upper chest, to his hips, to the tops of his thighs, rocking his body as he continued to sing. _“And no more talking, love this dead girl walking…!”_

_“Love this dead girl walking-”_

_“Wait, wait-”_

_“Love this dead girl, yeah!…yeah!...yeah!”_

_“Ow-”_

_“Yeah!”_

Kiyoomi let his body relax, hands coming to his mouth as he fell into inexplicable peels of laughter, giggles escaping even as he tried to muffle them. Atsumu stared at him, face oddly red. “Don’t look at me like that,” he lectured, trying to suppress his smile, “the song’s funny, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah, I reckon so. Maybe we could, uh, take a break?”

Kiyoomi shot him a curious look, shifting a little to get ready to clamber off him, “We only practiced it onc-”

He froze. His shuffling had led to him settling down more in Atsumu’s lap, whereas before he’d been somewhat propped up on his knees to move more easily. And, seated like this, it was impossible to not feel-

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Atsumu said, hands pressed to his scarlet face, “ya were just-”

“…Gyrating a lot?” Kiyoomi offered, knowing that, for the sake of both Atsumu and his _issue_ , he should probably get up and move, but found himself frozen. Atsumu nodded wordlessly. “…Makes sense, I guess.”

Atsumu groaned again, which in turn reminded Kiyoomi of the absolute absurdity of the situation. He couldn’t help but giggle again, gasping slightly when the obvious vibrations made Atsumu let out a small groan. “Stop laughin’ at me.”

“I’m laughing at the situation, not you,” Kiyoomi said, crossing his arms and, just to torture the other a little more, shuffled his hips slightly. He felt the slight movement of Atsumu’s hard cock beneath him, which made him flush red. Even with such solid evidence, it was hard to believe that _he_ was the cause behind it. “You’re gonna have to get used to me sitting on top of you, anyways.”

Atsumu peeled his hands away from his face for a moment to just stare at him. Kiyoomi’s eyes widened, realising exactly how that sounded. “Not in _that_ sense, pervert. I’m just saying, we’ll need to do this on performance nights _and_ in rehearsals and I don’t think you’ll get a five-minute break to jerk your tension out.”

“Well can I have one right now? Unless ya wanted to just sit on me all day. Which I ain’t opposed to, mind ya, but if ya want me gettin’ rid of this, it won’t help.”

Kiyoomi hated the part of himself that was flattered by that. _It was just the dancing and choreography, not you_ , he shut his own thoughts down fast, snorting and sliding off Atsumu’s lap, letting the other awkwardly shuffle into a sitting position. “Go on then, you know where the bathroom is. Try not to make it too obvious.”

Atsumu threw him a stink eye as he got to his feet, the visible evidence of his arousal making Kiyoomi avert his eyes with a blush. “Yah, I’ll just…” he practically fled the room. Kiyoomi clamped down on the inexplicable urge to follow him, crowd him against a wall and _help_ directly.

He shook it off. Atsumu didn’t like him like that. Their relationship might have become more teasing and sexual tension than legitimate hatred nowadays, but that didn’t mean the other owed him anything.

He forced his strange thoughts away, leant against the wall, and waited for the other to return. After all, they had a scene to practice.

_SCENE FIVE – 'EIGHTEEN'_

_∙_

Atsumu asked Sakusa not to talk about it. He shouldn’t have been so surprised that the other boy respected that wish and only reported positive progress in their practices to Ms Graham, but he somehow was. Even though it was prime embarrassment material for his twin – as well as countless of his other friends – to use, Sakusa never let slip so much as a syllable of what had happened during their first practice.

He appreciated the show of confidentiality, even more so when they had to practice it over and over. He eventually got to a point where he didn’t get hard at the other boy rocking his hips down and singing about riding him until dawn, but it was a point that was quite a long time coming.

As in, he had only just mastered not popping a blood vessel on his dick right before they started their proper, full run-throughs of the musical. In late March.

He was just glad, frankly, that he did manage to actually get over the whole damn thing. To say Ms Graham looked relieved to see them mostly unflustered after performing the scene – to the audience of whooping, gawking and even some horrified club members – was an understatement. They had progressed through their practices well.

So well, in fact, that Atsumu hadn’t realised how much of his focus had been on the musical as opposed to schoolwork until Akaashi mentioned throwing a surprise birthday party for Sakusa. For Atsumu, Sakusa’s birthday had always been an event he had rolled his eyes at and avoided in favour of studying for end of term exams.

He didn’t do any eye-rolling this time around, but he _did_ panic immensely about the manifest lack of study he had been doing, and buried himself in books and worksheets for a week straight. He was only lured out by Sakusa himself, who seemed to have been trying to peel away from the people determined to wish him a happy birthday and instead take refuge in the same small section of the auditorium Atsumu had designated his study zone.

“I find it a little rude that you can get away with ignoring all this in favour of studying and I can’t,” the other boy sighed, before settling down next to Atsumu, two plates of cake in hand. Atsumu blinked in surprise, taking one with murmured thanks. “How’s the study going?”

Atsumu just groaned by way of reply, which made Sakusa laugh. “I hate school.”

“Never thought I’d agree with you on that point, but yeah, class has been especially insufferable recently.”

“Right?” Atsumu said, setting his book aside to instead scoop cake into his mouth, some of his bad mood settling as the sweet taste registered. “I think Miss Rodriguez is tryin’ to kill me with Chem, honestly.”

Sakusa shrugged. “I mean, it’s not a fun topic, but I think I understand it alright.”

“Ugh, yer doin’ better than me, then.”

“I can always help you out, if you need,” Sakusa offered, picking at his cake and smiling slightly as he watched Hinata and Shirabu argue over who would look better in their Heathers outfits. Atsumu blinked at him. Of all directions he’d expected their relationship to turn, that wasn’t one of them. They’d been all sexual banter and (moderately) good-natured teasing recently, but it gave him pause to realise that they might actually be friends. Friends who helped each other in subjects they were struggling through.

“…If ya don’t mind, then yah, that’d help a lot.”

Sakusa smiled slightly at him. “Alright. We can squeeze in an hour before doing practices at my house. Sound good?”

Atsumu nodded, a little stunned that it had been that easy. “Yah, sounds perfect.” He swallowed, shoving down the strange fluttering in his stomach at the thought of just spending more time with Sakusa, for once in an environment not dependent on this musical. “So…whattaya think about bein’ eighteen so far?”

Sakusa shrugged. “The same as any other birthday, really.”

“Aww, really? But ya can vote now, and, like…I dunno, get a tattoo and shit.”

Sakusa threw him a look indicating he planned to do neither of those things. “How exciting.”

“Sorry, it’s just that I been eighteen for so long already the charm’s worn off-”

“You are only five and a half months older than me-”

“Still counts,” Atsumu crowed, grinning at the other boy smugly. Sakusa sighed, looking far more amused than legitimately annoyed.

“I hear we’re getting our costumes soon,” Sakusa murmured after a few moments of silent cake-eating. “So that’s exciting.”

Atsumu nodded, grinning. “I can’t wait to tower over ya.”

“Not much of a flex considering that to do that they need to put you in chunky boots and me in flats.”

“Shut upppppp-” he whined, reaching over to smack a quietly giggling Sakusa. “Yer so cruel to me, Omi-Omi.”

Sakusa raised an eyebrow. “Oh my, a nickname. That’s new.”

Atsumu just shrugged. His nicknaming streak wasn’t exactly a secret. From ‘Samu’ to ‘Shou’ and ‘Suke’, to the infamous ‘Kaaaaashi’ (more a mockery of how Bokuto stretched out the boy’s name than anything else), he tended to slap nicknames on anyone and everyone he considered enough of a friend. He’d assigned one to Sakusa almost without thinking, but…he liked it. ‘Omi-Omi’ was cute and bubbly, in contrast to its more serene owner.

“Yup. Yer a part of the nickname guild now. Feel honoured.”

Sakusa just smiled at him, rough and sharp edges smoothed away by the gentle expression. Atsumu could only stare, soak it up, and come to a conclusion.

_We’re friends. We’ve been friends for a while now._

_I don’t want to just be friends._

* * *

**[ [ ACT THREE ] ]**

* * *

_SCENE ONE – ‘SKIRTS AND BLAZERS’_

_∙_

It had already been proven to Atsumu more than once that spending time with Sakusa wasn’t unpleasant. The two of them were able to joke around easily, happily and freely if they so chose. But all of their meetings until that point had still, in some regard, been related to the musical.

So, showing up at Sakusa’s house every day and progressing to long-winded discussions about chemistry as opposed to choreography was a little jarring.

But it was also nice. Even if Atsumu had properly accepted what he now acknowledged was a crush, being in such close proximity after made his heart hurt a little. He wanted to kiss Sakusa, hold hands with him and drag him around to do stupid, sappy shit. Not to study and practice lines over and over again.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy those stolen moments. He did, perhaps too much. _That_ was the issue. Given their past animosity, Atsumu hadn’t wanted to risk their newfound closeness with any confessions of feelings, so he had chosen to experience his crush in a very one-sided way. Any sign that the other gave that his feelings were requited were silently appreciated, but he didn’t specifically push for anything romantic.

It didn’t make him as sad as he initially thought it would. Just spending time with Sakusa soothed some of the raging beast in his chest. Even if he did want more, they had schoolwork and practice to attend to, not each other.

And their extended time together wasn’t in vain; Atsumu scored exemplary marks on his next chemistry exam, something he could attribute to Sakusa’s methodical, patient explanation of titration. And their scenes together had been practiced to the point that they flowed together like a set of well-oiled machines, though they also managed to avoid the woodenness that repetition could bring to a performance. He had even managed to master the Dead Girl Walking scene, in the sense that he didn’t pop a vicious boner when Sakusa clambered on top of him anymore.

As such, he returned to school after their spring break ready to practice and finish up their final preparations for the musical. He was feeling good about the whole thing, and given that it would be their last performance as high schoolers, it was nice to be so assured in their own capability.

“Your costumes are here!” were the first words Atsumu heard upon strolling back into the auditorium on their first day back. Ms Graham was beaming from ear to ear as she handed him a pressed bag, which he handled gingerly. “We can make any necessary adjustments in the next few weeks as we do dress rehearsals, but for now, try it on!”

He grinned at her enthusiasm, which had always been ferociously infectious, and did as she bid, pulling on the monochrome underclothes, long coat and black combat boots that J.D. was known for. Judging by the grin that even Osamu sent him when he emerged from the dressing rooms, the outfit was a success. Ms Graham clapped her hands together with delight when he was shoved out and into her line of sight.

“Oh, it looks amazing! Jean and Xuefei have really outdone themselves this time.” she gushed. “Just wait for the others, we’ll be doing a run-through of scenes 1 to 5 today.”

Atsumu grinned, almost vibrating with excitement as he surveyed himself in a nearby mirror propped up against a wall. It _was_ an amazingly made outfit, that really brought out the measures of equal parts charm and unease that he wanted to convey. He combed a hand through his hair, smiling to himself when he saw Hinata, across the stage, flustering Kageyama immensely with the bright yellow, almost Clueless-esque blazer and skirt combination he was wearing.

Akaashi, dressed in Chandler’s signature red, and Shirabu, sporting Duke’s deep green, also seemed happy with their outfits, even if, much like Kageyama, Bokuto took one look at his scarlet-clad boyfriend and fell over.

“The Heathers look good,” a now familiar voice said behind him. Atsumu chuckled, all ready to throw in his commentary on the trio to Sakusa, when he noted that the other boy had also been given his outfit.

Then he froze up, words ceased to have any meaning, and his thoughts took on a continuous litany of _holy fuck holy fuck holy_ **_fuck-_ **

Ms Graham and her legion of talented tailors had made Sakusa’s outfit flawless, fitted practically to perfection. And Atsumu was both thanking and cursing them for it.

Rather than the blue outfit used by the off-Broadway shows, Sakusa’s clothes seemed to be a direct link to the original movie. He was dressed in a mismatched black blazer, which pulled in tight to accentuate his slender waist before flaring out over his hips. Accompanying it was a dark, plaid miniskirt that made Atsumu’s head short circuit.

The rest of the outfit only added to the look – a white shirt with ruffles at the front, knee-high white socks and black flats – and Atsumu resisted the urge to pinch himself. Sakusa just cocked his head to the side, expression slightly devious as he noted Atsumu’s reaction. His hair, he noted with a small, additional shock to the system, hadn’t been pulled back; instead, part was pinned neatly back with a white headband, leaving his curly mop of hair to hang over the far side of his face.

 _This is Heaven. I died and this is Heaven_.

“What do you think?” Sakusa asked, twirling once to show off the clothes – and wow, that skirt was as short as he’d initially thought – “I think it looks pretty good.”

“…Sure does,” he said weakly, averting his eyes from the incredibly appetising stretch of skin between the hem of Sakusa’s skirt and the tops of his socks with great effort. “Mine ain’t too shabby either, right?”

“It’s great,” Sakusa said, stepping closer into his space and sliding his hand over part of the fabric of the long black jacket. “Very misanthropic.”

Why in the hell did those words make Atsumu feel hot all over? He was losing his mind. “Uh, huh, yup.”

Sakusa cocked his head to the side, looking amused. “You good?”

“Perfect!” he squeaked out, pivoting to avoid the tantalising view before him. “Let’s practice!”

Luckily, Ms Graham echoed his sentiment just a moment later, and they all rushed into place. Atsumu took a deep breath, happily to step into the background as Sakusa took centre stage, lights shining down on him as he started the opening monologue.

 _“September 1st, 1989…Dear Diary,”_ the music started up, Sakusa started to pace slightly as people milled around, slowly walking closer to the spotlight to form the illusion of a full school hallway. _“I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are!”_ the pep in his voice, which he managed to sound almost desperate like in the original recording, made Atsumu’s heart stir more. _“First day of senior year! And uh...I look around at these kids that I've known all my life and I ask myself—what happened?”_

Now was the chorus’ time to shine. _“Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-eyes! Poser! Lard-ass!”_

Atsumu sucked in more careful breaths. The mere sight of Sakusa in his outfit had driven him half-crazy, and though his gorgeous singing wasn’t helping, he had to be professional about this.

 _“We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased…”_ the smooth notes Sakusa produced with so little effort made hair stand up on the back of his neck.

_“Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!”_

_“Singing and clapping, laughing and napping. Baking cookies, eating paste…”_

_“Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!”_

_“Then we got bigger, that was the trigger, like the Huns invading Rome…”_ he feigned bumping into someone, stumbling back perfectly with an apologetic, _“Oh, sorry!”_ he really had learned the script and choreography from end to end.

 _“Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school…this is the Thunderdome.”_ A sentiment Atsumu could agree with. _“Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon-”_

_“White trash!”_

_“-College will be paradise, if I'm not dead by June…!”_ the music swelled, and then…

 _“But I know, I know, life can be beautiful……I pray, I pray for a better way……If we changed back then, we could change again……We can be beautiful...”_ Atsumu’s heart lifted, stomach flipping. For someone who so easily mastered the energetic, punchy songs, it sometimes escaped him that Sakusa could also carry gentle songs like no-one else.

Right on cue, members of the chorus feigned a fight, _“Ow!”_

 _“Just not today,”_ Sakusa said, voice wry as he flounced away with ease. Atsumu pressed his eyes shut. It had always been a song that Sakusa had sung exceptionally well. Beautiful, the opening number to the whole musical.

How fitting, for someone like you to be the one singing it, he mused as Sakusa swung into a rant about Ram Sweeney, in this rendition portrayed by Shirofuku, a lovely girl in the same English class as him.

_“But I know, I know...I know, I know...Life can be beautiful, beautiful. I pray, I pray, I pray, I pray…for a better way, for a better way. We were kind before-”_

_“Oooh...”_

_“We can be kind once more-”_

_“Oooh...”_

_“We can be beautiful.”_

_“Oooh... Beautiful...”_

Sakusa’s voice was too beautiful, and Atsumu had to turn away as Inuoka, their musical’s Martha, slid into the scene. This was going to be a problem. Granted, he didn’t come in until after the second song, but still…

He watched Sakusa with longing eyes. Maybe his crush wasn’t so easy to ignore as he’d thought.

_SCENE TWO – ‘BACKSTAGE PRACTICE’_

_∙_

The feelings that now rested in his chest had come upon him without warning. Kiyoomi had been happy to snipe and snark at Atsumu for two years now, so ignoring the small part of him that asked for that to stop had been easy. He had maintained the idea of them still being rivals because  _ it was easy to _ . As he himself had thought multiple times, he and Atsumu were supposed to hate each other. Supposed to, as if their initial dislike of each other hadn’t resulted from pure clumsiness.

The more he thought about it, the less their rivalry made sense. Yes, they hadn’t gotten the best first impressions of one another, but Atsumu hadn’t been overtly obnoxious after that. It was only after they had both realised how talented the other was that their competitiveness had come into the fold, and with it, mutual distaste.

But the fact they were both talented should have been a strength. They should have been working together through musicals to score the best parts and form stirring on-stage dynamism. If they hadn’t been so wrapped up in their petty desire to fight, they might have really made their school plays and musicals incredible. They wouldn’t have  _ had _ to only take the chance now, in their final year of school.

Kiyoomi blamed his freshman brain. At 14 he had been nervous and caustic and not at all ready to face high school. He had lashed out at plenty of people back then while deep in the throes of early adolescent insecurity, but the difference was that he found it easy to apologise to Motoya, and those he was already close with. Less so for a loud boy in his drama class.

He should have apologised and started a clean slate with Atsumu after that first, disastrous meeting. Kiyoomi was humble enough to acknowledge that now. But regardless of their past, their future had seemed bright. Atsumu had gone from his bitter rival to his study buddy and friend. They’d replaced rolled eyes and exaggerated sighs for flirting more and more as time went on. The times he’d outright complimented the other had been met with blushes and compliments rather than derision. And as more and more time had passed, Kiyoomi had increasingly found that Atsumu's arrogance was actually self-assuredness and confidence. His loudness was a product of him living with a twin with whom he constantly competed for attention. His braggadocio hid a kind, compassionate interior that had been revealed to Kiyoomi in practices at his house, hangouts after school and library dates.

He had thought they were actually sliding towards starting to date. But Atsumu hadn’t looked at him all afternoon, and Kiyoomi wanted to know why. 

He knew he hadn’t said anything, mostly because he was pretty sure he could identify the cause; after staring at him in his proper outfit, Atsumu had been avoidant during scenes and even seemed hesitant to look straight at him while they practiced. It stung a little, because he had no idea why said reaction was justified or necessary, in Atsumu’s eyes.

Maybe he found Kiyoomi attractive. Perhaps he was repulsed by the idea of kissing him while he was wearing the outfit. Maybe even, Kiyoomi’s brasher, suggestive words had made him uncomfortable and he wanted no part of it. The answer could have been anything, and it would have been easy enough to give up, mourn their lost connection, and go home.

But Kiyoomi was a lot of things, and someone who gave up easily wasn’t one of them. So when their practice came to an end, full of buzzing energy, everyone high off the manifest success, he conceived an easy plot to get the other alone.

It was easy enough to establish his own alibi for staying late; one of the girls who usually handled all lockups had to leave early, and he volunteered to close the auditorium up in her place. Then, as Ms Graham was listening to him offer, he turned to Atsumu – who’d strayed over to hear what the commotion was about – and loudly said, “Oh, Atsumu, I need to talk about one of our scenes with you, do you mind staying behind a little?”

And the other boy, obviously not ready to be called on as such, visibly floundered, before caving. “Sure.”

Success. Let it never be said that Kiyoomi didn’t know what he was doing. That Hogwarts house test that told him he was a Slytherin was accurate after all.

He drummed his fingers anxiously as the rest of the club filtered out, not missing the scrutinising look that Miya Osamu shot him before following Inuoka and Suna outside. Atsumu himself fidgeted nervously, helping the backstage crew pack their last loose ends away. He didn’t seem to want to be alone with Kiyoomi.

He swallowed. He hoped that this wasn’t a case of Atsumu noticing his interest and stepping very determinedly away. Kiyoomi knew his gender wasn’t an issue of attraction for the other; Miya Atsumu was as bisexual as they came, not to mention that he’d physically reacted during their practices. But that didn’t mean he wanted to be with Kiyoomi specifically.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost didn’t notice when the last person left, leaving them alone and awkwardly silent. Shoving down his reservations, Kiyoomi moved around, checking windows and doors as he properly locked the place up. Atsumu helped him wordlessly, expression relaxing a little, at least until Kiyoomi marched towards the dressing room area, and gestured for the other to follow him.

“You’ve been avoiding me since earlier,” Kiyoomi muttered when they were both downstairs, leaning against a makeup bench. “Why?”

Again, Kiyoomi was a lot of things. Someone who gave up wasn’t one of them. Neither was he someone blessed with subtlety.

Atsumu made a face, scratching the back of his head. “I…dunno, sorry Sakusa. I’ve been distracted a bit.”

His mind flashed back to when he’d first run into Atsumu that day, recalling how the other had been staring at Hinata Shouyou. His heart sank a little. “Ahh, something to do with the costumes?”

Atsumu reddened. “Well, I mean, yeah, it’s not normal to see all these tall guys wearin’ miniskirts. Especially ya. Yer always in jeans and shit so it’s a little…” he averted his eyes, turning even redder, at which point Kiyoomi remembered he was still wearing his outfit, “…overwhelming.”

“Oh?” Kiyoomi couldn’t stop himself from raising an eyebrow at Atsumu, praying that the sudden tension in the air between him wasn’t just on his end. “Overwhelming good or overwhelming bad?”

“Overwhelming good. It, uh, suits ya a lot, yah,” Atsumu murmured, eyes tracing his figure much more slowly and appraisingly than everyone else in the cast had. With much more appraisal than he’d earlier offered Hinata. Kiyoomi’s stomach flipped. He might have misjudged this. _Does that mean…?_

He stepped a little closer to the blond, planting his hands on his hips and cocking his head to the side. It _was_ a well-designed outfit, which had evidently been cut in a way that deliberately emphasised his (surprisingly wide and usually hidden) hips and narrow waist. Atsumu visibly swallowed.

“I think you like the skirt especially,” Kiyoomi murmured, leaning back and letting some of his teasing mood enter his voice. He tossed his head back to move his hair, staring the blond down as his fingertips graced the skirt’s hem, pushing the fabric slightly up the toned skin of his thighs.

This time, there was no mistaking it; a small noise, like a whine, left Atsumu’s mouth. Kiyoomi watched him a moment before striding forwards, grabbing Atsumu’s hands. “Well? What do you think?” he directed the blond to touch the fabric, fingers skimming along bare skin tantalisingly. Kiyoomi sucked in a breath, cocking his head to the side. “You like it?”

Atsumu was still for barely a second before his fingers, so cautious just moments before, were shifting the fabric up themselves, touch sliding underneath to caress the tops of his thighs. Kiyoomi leaned into his hold, breath fluttering as Atsumu’s grip tightened and he was tugged into a tight hold.

Then Atsumu was finally, blessedly kissing him. With no excuses of practice or musical scenes to offer justification for it. _Just me, this time. Finally_ **_I’m_ ** _the reason he’s kissing me_.

“I love the skirt,” Atsumu murmured, voice so low it was almost a growl, “fuckin’ hell-”

Kiyoomi groaned as he was backed into the bench behind them, their lips connected by increasingly fervent and deep kisses. He threw his arms around Atsumu’s neck, groaning openly when he was lifted up and sat on the bench, their sloppy kissing not interrupted for even a moment. He hooked his legs around Atsumu’s waist, holding their bodies together as strong hands tugged at his hair and shoved the plaid fabric of his skirt further up his leg.

 _God I’m glad I went for Veronica,_ he thought dizzily as Atsumu pressed one of his thighs between Kiyoomi’s legs, nudging them apart and grinding into what was quickly becoming a big problem. He moaned again, deep and sultry, and rutted against Atsumu’s leg, nipping and biting at his lips with satisfaction at the friction.

“Fuck,” Atsumu muttered, teeth and tongue abandoning Kiyoomi’s mouth in favour of raking over the side of his neck instead. “Can I, _ahh_ , shit-”

“Hmm?” Kiyoomi said hazily, bracing his feet on the edge of the bench to rock his hips more forcefully. He hadn’t been planning to do much more than flirt with Atsumu, really, maybe get the idiot to properly notice his feelings, but if this practice ended with him coming in his underwear – as seemed increasingly likely – he wouldn’t be entirely adverse.

“Wanna jerk ya off,” Atsumu murmured, rubbing his leg up and down more deliberately as Kiyoomi huffed and rocked into the movement. Then the blond’s words hit him properly, and he was letting out a surprised moan.

“Yes, yes, _shit,_ please-” he begged, moving his hands to grip Atsumu’s shoulders instead. The blond had obviously been eagerly awaiting a confirmation, because Kiyoomi found his skirt hitched up to his stomach, underwear discarded and his cock in a large, warm hand before he could even blink. He shuddered at the contact as Atsumu breathed raggedly, thumb swiping across the head. “Tsumu-”

“Ya look so good,” Atsumu murmured, pulling his hand off for a moment to spit into his palm before he quickly resumed the hesitant strokes and touches he’d started off with. “I dunno how I’m supposed to not get all flustered over ya when yer wearin’ _this_.”

“Hnngg, fuck,” Kiyoomi whined, bucking into Atsumu’s hold encouragingly as the blond kissed him hard again, movements speeding up and becoming more needy. “Yes, touch me-”

Atsumu hummed, shuffling closer and using his free hand to continue it’s up and down trek beneath the fabric of Kiyoomi’s skirt, gripping and squeezing his ass liberally. His hand was generating easy friction, the slide aided by his saliva making Kiyoomi’s eyes roll back in his head. He had jerked himself off before, as he assumed every teenage boy in the country had at one point or another, but Atsumu’s grip was an entirely different thing to his own.

The hand on Kiyoomi’s ass pulled him in slightly, encouraging him to time his thrusts with the jerks of Atsumu’s wrist. He almost couldn’t keep track of what was happening, of the thumb grazing the vein on the side, the palm so expertly cupping his length as it moved, the fingernails of his other hand that were digging slightly (deliriously) into his skin. The sensation was beyond euphoric.

“Ahh, _ahh-_ ” he groaned as Atsumu sped his hand’s movements up, effortlessly jerking and stroking and squeezing at all the right times and places. Kiyoomi lifted his legs to entrap Atsumu, keep their bodies close together as he clung to the blond’s shoulders and gave himself completely over to the maddening arousal filling him with heat. “I’m gonna, _shit_ , gonna-”

“I gotcha,” Atsumu murmured, stepping closer to lick a stripe across Kiyoomi’s pulse point before both his hands were planted on his erection, jerking smoothly, “go on.”

He threw his head back, groaning, when his eyes strayed over Atsumu’s shoulder. There was a mirror there, one of the ones used for makeup and dressing, and something about seeing himself, flustered and dishevelled, legs wrapped around Atsumu’s waist as the other hunched over him, working his wrist frantically, made his body temperature spike.

He gripped Atsumu’s back more forcefully, watching the widening of his own eyes and slackening of his mouth with every one of Atsumu’s movements.

The image shifted, Atsumu’s bright amber eyes meeting his own in the mirror, one eyebrow lifting.

“Oh? Yah like the mirror, huh?” a wicked grin crossed the other boy’s face, and suddenly he was being shifted sideways, so he could see the pumping of Atsumu’s wrist and the precum leaking down his own cock in full. He gasped, legs tightening around Atsumu’s waist as he rocked more forcefully into the grip. Atsumu grinned against his neck, lips sliding up to his ear to relay a simple order.

“Watch yerself come for me.”

He obeyed, splattering strings of cum over one of Atsumu’s hands, groaning happily as the other boy kissed the side of his neck and reached for a nearby box of tissues.

“Ya good?” Atsumu asked a few moments later, hands spotless and smelling of hand sanitiser as he leant down to grab the underwear that Kiyoomi had so gleefully kicked off just minutes before. He nodded, flushing as he redressed and dusted himself off, sliding back onto feet that trembled slightly under weak knees. He avoided looking at both the mirror and the blond, heat rising through his whole body.

“I’m fine,” he said, sure that the flush on his cheeks wouldn’t be dispelled for another hour at least. His eyes strayed to Atsumu without his say-so, and he blinked when he saw the rather obvious hard-on that the other boy was harbouring. “Uhh-”

“We should get goin’, yah? I promised ya a ride home.” Atsumu chuckled, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Kiyoomi watched him for a moment, unsure of his next move before he followed his lead and grabbed his things. Atsumu blinked at him, cheeks reddening. “Ya, uhh, are ya sure ya don’t wanna change before we leave?”

Right, Kiyoomi was still in a skirt. The one Atsumu had admitted drove him crazy. He affixed the blond with a calculating look, before shrugging. “No. I need to get used to wearing it anyway.” _And I might need to check it over and give it a wash, too_. Atsumu reddened further, nodded, and walked outside. Sighing, Kiyoomi followed him.

“For the record,” he said after dumping his things in Atsumu’s backseat and sliding into the passenger side, “if you plan on just ignoring what happened back there then I would rather it never happened.”

The blond froze, looking ethereal even in his panic due to the sunset hues shining through his window. “I…didn’t know whether ya wanted it to just be a one-time thing, or-”

Kiyoomi grabbed his chin, steering Atsumu’s head towards him to press a hard kiss against his mouth. The blond made a surprised noise before leaning into it, his hands gravitating easily back to his hips. “Not a one-time thing,” Kiyoomi said sharply as he pulled away, nails digging into the skin of Atsumu’s jaw slightly. “If that’s what _you_ wanted then I’ll back off, but-”

“It ain’t,” Atsumu hurried to say, staring at him with eyes that were oddly wide and vulnerable, “not a one-time thing, no.”

Kiyoomi watched him for a long, unbroken moment. Then relaxed, and leaned back in to kiss him. Atsumu met him there eagerly, tongues sliding together intoxicatingly before they pulled apart once more, connected only by a string of saliva. Feeling bold, Kiyoomi slid his hands down to the still-prominent bulge in Atsumu’s jeans.

“You want help?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Atsumu breathed, hands shifting to unbuckle his pants and shove down his boxers before Kiyoomi could offer to do it for him. He grinned at the blond’s enthusiasm, considering his options for a moment before shuffling closer on the seat and looking up at Atsumu.

“There anyone around? Teachers? Lagging students?”

Atsumu obediently swivelled, one hand on the long folds of the jacket he was still wearing, ready to pull it over to protect his decency if there was anyone. But the blond relaxed, and shook his head. “Nah, place is deserted.”

Kiyoomi smiled privately again, bracing one hand on Atsumu’s thigh and another on the dashboard before ducking down and taking the head of Atsumu’s cock into his mouth. The blond groaned, throwing his head back so fast he almost brained himself on the headrest, before biting his lip to suppress his groans and threading a hand through Kiyoomi’s curls.

"Holy shit, Omi," he said weakly as Kiyoomi licked at the tip of his cock languidly, sucking gently before sliding down a little more to take in more of his length, appreciating every huff and moan that tumbled down from above. Though he wasn’t all too experienced with kissing, Kiyoomi was known to get a little looser with his standards after drinking a little, so this wasn’t the first blowjob he’d given. He let his jaw open wider, humming when the head of Atsumu’s cock hit the back of his throat.

“Yer real good at this, huh Omi?” Atsumu murmured, voice strained as Kiyoomi bobbed his head up and down, relishing how the cock in his mouth twitched and dripped precum over his tongue. He fought down the satisfied smile threatening to break out over his face, pulling back so his mouth slid off with a small _pop_ before he pressed kisses and kitten licks to his slit. Atsumu cursed, tugging his head forward sharply as Kiyoomi basked in a surge of satisfaction before swallowing Atsumu down again.

“I ain’t gonna last, Omi,” Atsumu whined, hand smoothing over his jaw and opening it wider as Kiyoomi swallowed around him, licking and sucking with relish, “fuck, I, _ahh_ , wait-”

Kiyoomi pulled off the minute he heard the word, blinking in confusion. “Did I do something-”

Atsumu was red faced and flushed, eyes glassy with arousal as he stared down at him. “Nah, ya didn’t…shit…” he sighed, cupping Kiyoomi’s face in both hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks. “Can I…ask ya fer somethin’ embarrassin’?” he murmured. Kiyoomi planted his hands on his thighs, watching him.

“…Sure?”

“I really…fuck, I guess…I’m into…” he trailed off, sighing. “I like yer thighs. Especially in that damn skirt. So…” he averted his eyes, cheeks reddening, “I was gonna ask if…ya’d mind if I…came on ‘em?”

Kiyoomi stared at him, shocked at the admission before he felt warmth wriggle its way through his gut. He slowly nodded, not missing how Atsumu’s eyes widened in shocked but gleeful surprise. Then, after waiting a moment to check the other was alright, he leaned down and took the tip of Atsumu’s slightly softened cock into his mouth again.

Atsumu groaned as Kiyoomi worked him up to full hardness again, swallowing down until his nose was just a few centimetres from being buried in his pubic hair. He slid up and down, suppressing his gag reflex as he hummed around his length and took him as deep as possible over and over again. He could feel tears burning in his eyes but ploughed onwards, rotating his head and teasingly scraping his teeth along the underside of Atsumu’s cock as the blond bucked into his mouth.

He sucked hard, groaning when Atsumu tugged hard on his hair, pulling him off his cock and coaxing him upwards. He slid into Atsumu’s lap with a groan, grinding down as he began to lick and suck at the side of his neck, pressing hickeys into Atsumu’s skin.

“Fuck-“ Atsumu groaned, stroking his saliva-wet cock rapidly, “oh _god-“_

He pulled Kiyoomi down, one hand caressing the soft skin of his waist as the other directed his cock to point at his inner thighs. Realising a mess was imminent, Kiyoomi braced his forearms on either side of Atsumu’s head, pressing his thighs together as Atsumu jerked himself twice more before hot cum was splattering across his legs.

Kiyoomi moaned softly, surprised by how much he actually liked the feeling, leaning back and hitching his skirt up before sliding his fingers through the mess, smearing it around as Atsumu watched him with his mouth agape.

“Shit,” he said weakly, “ _shit_.”

Kiyoomi pulled him into another kiss, deep and slow as he cradled Atsumu’s head gently in his hands, staring into his eyes when they separated.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to focus on the musical now,” Atsumu said weakly. Kiyoomi just chuckled, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Simple. We practice.”

_SCENE THREE – ‘PREMIERE’_

_∙_

“Does my makeup look okay?”

“Is my skirt a good length?”

“Wait, where am I supposed to be positioned first?”

“Do you think one of those curtains is gonna fall down and crush me? And if not, what can I do to bring that about?”

“No, it shouldn’t be _that_ short, I wanna look _slutty_ , not like a slut.”

“Where the hell is the hairspray? I’m in a fucking crisis.”

“What’s the bet on half the cast havin’ a conniption and faintin’ on stage?” Atsumu grumbled to Kiyoomi as they watched half their peers run around like they’d been fed ‘go go juice’ by child beauty pageant mothers of varying ethics. “I’d put ten bucks on it.”

“Twenty,” Kiyoomi offered, rolling his eyes at them all. “They’re acting like we haven’t practiced these scenes over and over for a third of the school year at least.”

“Exactly,” Atsumu laughed, checking his watch and noting they had ten minutes until the curtains went up. “Ya feelin’ ready?”

“Perfectly so,” Kiyoomi said smoothly, reaching over to intertwine one of his hands with Atsumu’s. “Even if they all collapse, we’re the most important characters anyway, so who cares?”

“Good point,” he murmured, rubbing a soothing thumb over Kiyoomi’s knuckles.

‘Boyfriend’ was a familiar but tentative term, one that they’d labelled their relationship with the very same day as their backstage and parking lot tryst. It felt a little foreign, to say he had a boyfriend, and the entire cast had gawked at them in stunned silence and subsequently lost their shit when they’d mentioned it the first time.

From Osamu’s gaping mouth and inhuman screeching, to Komori’s wordless pointing and hand waving, Akaashi’s murmured, “plot twist” and Hinata’s tiny claps because “I love love! Even this weird kind”, Atsumu had committed the moment to memory with glee.

The best part though? A ton of their friends  _ still didn’t believe them _ .

But whether it was going out on stupid roller-skating dates that ended with bruised legs and laughter-induced breathlessness, cram sessions before pop quizzes or time spent making out in Atsumu’s car, it was wonderful to not need an excuse to see Kiyoomi anymore.

(Plus, being on a first-name basis with him made Atsumu’s head spin in the best of ways, so the benefits really never ended.)

“Alright! Get ready guys! We’re about to start!”

Kiyoomi squeezed his hand, grinning before he was slipping away, ready to get into the middle of the stage and knock it out of the park. Atsumu smiled after him, scampering off in the opposite direction. It was time.

The first runthrough of ‘Beautiful’ done to an audience went off without a hitch, Kiyoomi’s voice swelling perfectly with each beat of the music, every comedic note being pulled off flawlessly. Atsumu grinned, watching as the three Heathers yanked Kiyoomi over to the side of the stage, where he threw off the loose dress outfit he’d been wearing over his skirt and blazer, before being dragged out for the latter part of the song.

‘Candy Store’ came next, to the raucous cheering and applause of the audience as Akaashi, Shirabu and Hinata sung their hearts out. Even Atsumu couldn’t fault the whooping that arose when Akaashi tossed his bright red skirt and swayed his hips. It was certainly a striking image.

Then ‘Fight for Me’ bled in, and he had to try hard to not stare too lovingly at Kiyoomi as he sang so beautifully. The playoff of Candy Store made him grin in the wings, before ‘Freeze Your Brain’ and ‘Big Fun’ swept through as well.

Then it was showtime. The scene he had been both dreading and anticipating since the first casting announcement had gone out.

They’d practiced Dead Girl Walking so much by now that it was practically old hat, but there was something different about hearing Kiyoomi’s opening lyrics about ‘needing it hard’ and having those lines receive screeching laughter and whooping. Being pressed together on stage and kissing while Atsumu shucked Kiyoomi’s blazer off and unbuttoned his shirt – the full extent of nudity that Ms Graham would allow – felt amplified somehow, to the point that Atsumu was so high on the adrenaline of performing that his body didn’t have time to be turned on by his ridiculously attractive boyfriend.

They orchestrated the death of Chandler, got haunted by her ghost, were screwed over by the jocks and watched Ram and Kurt also meet their ends.

During the intermission, Atsumu caught Kiyoomi around the waist and pressed a congratulatory kiss to his mouth before spinning away with a laugh to prepare for Act 2 and scull down water.

The whole cast had been nervous and jittery before performing, but their lack of mistakes in Act 1 bolstered their confidence, and they all walked back on stage with newfound trust that their hours of practise had paid off. The second half almost went too fast for them, to the point that, as they closed out the end of Seventeen’s reprise, bringing the musical to its conclusion, it felt like no more than fifteen minutes had passed.

Atsumu’s ears were ringing as the audience burst into applause, light flooding the auditorium as they got ready to do their traditional walkthrough and bow. He and Kiyoomi got the loudest cheers, of course, grinning at each other when they were allowed to leave the stage and clean up properly.

“Five more performances to go,” he said as Kiyoomi scrubbed the ashy post-explosion makeup from his face. They had another on this week, then two a week for the next fortnight. They had to make their relentless practicing worth it, after all. His boyfriend smirked. “Ya ready fer them?”

“Always.”

_SCENE FOUR – ‘BIG FUN’_

_∙_

To say that the musical ended up being a success was an understatement. Their first performance had been a full house, as was typical of any school musical they put on, but numbers tended to wane a little as they went through more performances.

But word had gotten out that the ‘gender-blind’ musical about murder and popularity was actually damn good, all thanks to its cast’s brilliant acting and singing. Every single one of their other performances was to a full crowd. Kiyoomi didn’t consider himself much of a narcissist, but he had to say that he rather enjoying bowing out of the auditorium to the sound of thunderous applause twice a week.

He was rather disappointed it had to come to an end, even if he was fully aware of why. Ms Graham actually teared up as they all got into a huddle after their last performance, thanking everyone profusely.

“No thanks would be complete without special attention to the seniors, of course,” she sniffled, dabbing her eyes with a tissue that Hinata had offered her. “You all did wonderfully, and have for the last few years, and it’s been lovely to watch you all grow over time, plus a privilege to put on these kinds of productions with you.”

“Hear hear!” a sophomore chorused, all the underclassmen cheering as the seniors blinked hard and did their best to contain their emotion. Kiyoomi himself was great at it, but he could see Atsumu – positioned two people to his right – tearing up a little.

“You made this musical a rousing success,” Ms Graham continued, smiling wetly at them, “Akaashi, I don’t think we could have found a better Chandler. Some people called me crazy when I first cast you, but I think you proved them all wrong.”

The usually stoic boy blushed a little, nodding in thanks as the others pitched in with their agreements. Ms Graham chuckled. “And Shirabu, you definitely helped bring Duke to life fully.” The boy tilted his chin up proudly, smiling a little when another chorus of cheers met those words. “But the biggest congratulations, I think, do have to go to Atsumu and Sakusa,” she said, turning her eyes to them fondly. “I won’t lie, you two have caused me some headaches, these last years.”

“Preach,” Osamu muttered, wincing when Atsumu kicked him. Kiyoomi stifled a snort.

“You two did wonderfully,” she said softly, “I can’t praise your performances enough, and I know if you choose to go down acting or singing based routes in the future that you will flourish. For the record, though, I should have cast you two as love interests _years ago_.”

Kiyoomi found his cheeks heating up as Motoya slapped him on the back with a grin, the rest of the circle chuckling. Atsumu smiled too, though he was blinking a little faster than usual. Kiyoomi smiled fondly at him. His boyfriend did tend to tear up easily, as repeat viewings of sad movies with him had already proven.

“Anyway,” Ms Graham straightened up, dabbing her eyes again, “you should all feel incredibly proud of yourselves. Main cast, chorus and backstage alike. You made this year something special, and I look forward to seeing what those of you who will return will do in the future.”

They broke the circle after that, exchanging a few kind words and further praise. He was so high on delight that he didn’t even mind when people wrangled their way through the crowd to slap him on the back or pat his arm – Kiyoomi even permitted Bokuto, a persistent and infamous bear hugger, to pick him up in a tight, congratulatory embrace, he was so happy.

“If anyone’s going to Kuroo’s, I can give you a ride there, by the way!” Suna called over the rabble at one point, piquing Kiyoomi’s interest. The news that Kuroo – known for his drunken exploits just as much as he was his hair – was throwing a party the same night as their closing performance had drawn a lot of attention. The guy had been very considerate about it, specifically scheduling it for an hour after the performance ended, and telling all the cast that they were allowed in as guests of honour for the night.

Atsumu, who had sidled up next to him at some point, nudged him gently. “Ya wanna go? Sounds like it’s gonna be fun as hell.”

He considered it. He’d had some plans for tonight already, but it wasn’t like he had a curfew. He might as well experience one last blowout high school party before they all had to hunker down for their SATs.

“Sure,” he smiled at Atsumu, who beamed and excitedly dragged him over to Suna by the hand. The placid boy looked up at them.

“You might wanna wash that makeup off first,” he commented, “but Kuroo said to keep the costumes on, so he knows who to give the best drinks to.”

“Fair enough,” Kiyoomi said, already reaching for wipes to clean his face off, “this thing is quite comfortable, frankly.”

“I know right?” Hinata, still dressed in blinding yellow, said with a grin, swishing his hips happily. “The fabric’s so nice-”

“Careful there, Shouyou, ya might give Tobio another heart attack,” Atsumu laughed, nodding to where Kageyama was gawking again at his boyfriend, cheeks red and eyes slightly glazed over. Kiyoomi clamped a hand to his mouth to muffle some rather unattractive snorts as Hinata let out a complainative noise and ran over to him. “Ahh, kids are cute.”

“We’re only a year older than them,” Kiyoomi lectured him. “Hell, I only have three months on Hinata. It barely counts.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Atsumu said, looping an arm around Kiyoomi’s waist to hold him flush against his side. “’Sides, I ain’t judgin’. By the looks of it, Tobio’s a man of culture like myself.”

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, dragging his boyfriend outside once his face was clean and presentable enough. “Come on, you weird perv, we have a party to get to.”

Despite only having been officially started for about a half hour by the time they pulled up outside, Kuroo’s party was in full swing, people milling around everywhere with drinks of all kinds in their hands. Kiyoomi took a second to shake his head incredulously before following Atsumu out, not missing the appreciative cheers when people realised that the musical cast had arrived.

“My guests of honour!” Kuroo yelled from the second-floor balcony, looking impressively sober despite the half-empty bottle he was holding. “Come in and drink! Nice skirts!”

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, as did Akaashi, who’d just arrived with one of Bokuto’s arms wrapped around his waist, and they exchanged a look of mild dread before slipping inside.

The ‘guests of honour’ thing wasn’t even really that overblown; from the minute they entered, people were cheering and clapping, offering congratulations and bottles of beer in equal measure. He only accepted one bottle, shooting a warning look at Atsumu that told him he should do the same. His boyfriend threw him a cheeky grin, reaching over to open Kiyoomi’s bottle for him. He took a sip with relish, swiping his tongue suggestively around the rim when his boyfriend looked at him.

Atsumu blushed, Kiyoomi laughed, and he darted off to see if Motoya had arrived yet, grinning when he heard his boyfriend whine slightly.

He always had a tendency to sometimes overindulge on alcohol any time he did go to parties, but Kiyoomi made sure to hold himself back this time, preferring to talk to his cousin and friends rather than drink. Atsumu followed his lead, just kissing the space under his ear whenever he asked why the other was just going along with his precedent. They’d been there for hours by the time he finally caved and asked, and the answer floored him a little.

“I don’t wanna make sober ya take care of drunk me. That’s cruel,” he chuckled, “’sides,” he mouthed at the side of his neck, “my folks are out. I was gonna ask if ya wanted to come over fer a bit.”

“Ugh,” Osamu groaned, turning to Suna. “mind if I spend the night? I ain’t wanna witness that shit.”

“Sure.”

Atsumu threw his brother a stink eye. “Shaddup, ya scrub.”

Osamu rolled his eyes, watching them curiously as Atsumu pulled Kiyoomi in tighter. “Not gonna lie, I wasn’t sure ya weren’t pullin’ my leg when ya said yer datin’.”

Atsumu pouted, but Kiyoomi just laughed, leaning up to press a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek before nuzzling in a little closer. Osamu gave them a disgusted look again, making Atsumu snort.

Commotion by the door made them look around, everyone adopting a ‘yikes’ expression upon seeing that some poor girl had thrown up all over the guy standing next to her.

“On that note, I think it’s time we get going,” Atsumu murmured into his ear, “dontcha think?”

Kiyoomi recalled what he’d shoved into his coat pocket, shivered, and nodded.

“Yes, I think so.”

_SCENE FIVE – ‘RIDE YOU TILL I BREAK YOU’_

_∙_

“You really forgot your keys?” Kiyoomi sighed, looking at his boyfriend with equal parts fondness and exasperation. Atsumu grinned sheepishly at him.

“Yah…Samu probably has them,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “But, uh, if it helps, I left my balcony doors open so if we climb up we can probably get through there?”

Kiyoomi eyed the balcony in question, sighing before he resigned himself to it. “Alright. I’m only agreeing because it looks easy enough to climb to, though.”

Atsumu nodded, gesturing for him to climb up. At Kiyoomi’s questioning look, he grinned slyly. “Yer ass looks great in that skirt, ya know that.”

He blushed, resisted the urge to smack him, and obediently started using the wood latticework and piping to scale the wall.

(And well, if he did maybe wiggle a little more than necessary, but that was no-one’s business but his own.)

He hopped over the balcony railing with ease, reaching over to tug Atsumu up behind him, pulling him into a kiss the minute he was standing upright. Atsumu leaned into it, sucking on his bottom lip before sliding his tongue into Kiyoomi’s mouth. He found himself pressed up against the glass, groaning into Atsumu’s mouth as his boyfriend kissed him senseless.

“Tsumu, mmhhm, we should go inside,” he murmured, pulling back. Pupils blown out and breath coming fast, Atsumu nodded, sliding the door open and letting them both in. He’d been in Atsumu’s room multiple times already, but seeing it in this light, touched by the dark of night and surrounded by the privacy of an empty house, it felt far more intimate a setting.

Atsumu ran a hand through his hair as Kiyoomi slid off his jacket, leaning against his bedpost with a curious look on his face.

He wouldn’t have this, soon enough, he realised with a small pang. The last few months had been increasingly focused on college, and though his relationship with Atsumu was only fairly new, he already hated the idea of not getting to spend time with him regularly. But there was no telling where they’d both choose to study, or if their relationship would even survive the transition, so he knew he had to prepare himself for the possibility sooner or later.

“Hey, ya okay?” Atsumu asked gently, reaching out to stroke his cheek gently. Kiyoomi sighed.

“Sorry, I just thought…I don’t know. Feels weird to know high school will end yet. It only just hit me that we’re going to graduate soon, go to college. That was our last musical. Shit like that.”

“Yah, I know what ya mean,” Atsumu sighed, flopping back onto his bed with a sigh as Kiyoomi watched him with amusement. “I mean, drama club alone has taken up so much of the last four years that it’s kinda weird to imagine college without it.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have a lot of other things to preoccupy ourselves with, come September,” Kiyoomi shrugged. He could understand the strangeness of it, and he was already mourning the possible losses he could be about to face…but he was also keen to start college. The time he’d spent in the drama club had been wonderful, but he had never been one to linger on the past, which was perhaps part of what made him such a bad pre-emptive overthinker. Atsumu didn’t tend to focus on the past either; he just liked to vent about things to get his feelings off his chest rather than let them build.

He stewed over it for a moment, before forcing himself to relax.

“We’ll get there when we get there,” he said firmly, trying to convince himself of the words as he said them. “Let’s just…enjoy what we have left of high school, right?”

Atsumu’s eyes softened. “Of course.”

A thought occurred to him, and Kiyoomi found himself smirking. “You know, now I think about it, this mirrors what happened in the musical a little,” Kiyoomi mused out loud, slowly walking towards Atsumu, knowing the subtle swaying of his hips as he did so would affect the other. “We went to a party, someone threw up, we had to climb through the window to get back in here…what next?”

He heard Atsumu’s breathing hitch as he halted, leaning over slightly. He was standing, legs brushing Atsumu’s knees where he was seated on the bed, so he was practically looming over the blond. As opposed to coming off as menacing, though, he clearly sent Atsumu a whole different message. Hands, strong and sure in how they’d gripped him during every practice and performance, now slid up to hold his hipbones, thumbs circling over the skin gently. He let himself be tempted forwards, grabbing hold of Atsumu’s broad, muscular shoulders.

“Ya remember how that scene goes, right?” Atsumu murmured, breath ghosting over Kiyoomi’s neck. They’d already kissed so many times, both for the musical and not, but feeling a warm tongue and grazing teeth scrape over his pulse point still made him whimper a little, pressing closer. “we could always stage a re-enactment.”

“One last performance?” Kiyoomi offered, pulling the blond’s head up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. The hands on his hips slid a little lower, bracketing his upper thighs. The touch burned like a brand.

He wanted more of it.

Atsumu’s fingers pushed back part of Kiyoomi’s fringe, cupping the side of his face. “Hmm, ya sure ya don’t wanna go back to one of those parties?”

“I don’t,” Kiyoomi said, toeing off the black shoes he’d been wearing and kicking them a safe distance away. Atsumu sucked in a breath.

“Even though everyone there wanted ya around to drink with ‘em and use up their blunts?”

“I’d rather spend my time here with you, using _these_ ,” Kiyoomi said, pivoting to rifle through the contents of his jacket pockets and pulling out the condoms and lube he had bought (very red-facedly) at a store a few days ago. “And they shouldn’t go to waste either.”

“Well in that case,” Atsumu said breathlessly, “you should probably come here.”

Kiyoomi obeyed, slipping over to straddle Atsumu’s thighs, sighing when his skirt was pushed up higher around his thighs. Appreciative fingers slid over the smooth skin of his upper thigh, and he pressed closer, using his grip on Atsumu’s shoulders to properly lever himself up and seat himself on his lap. The blond grinned, wrapping his arms properly around Kiyoomi’s waist to pull them flush together before smashing their mouths together.

They kissed hungrily, viciously, so aggressively that it felt like a remnant of their old rivalry. If only their past selves had known their hostility would lead them here. Kiyoomi slid a hand up Atsumu’s toned stomach before rolling his hips down suddenly, making both of their breaths hitch from the friction.

“I can’t, _fuck_ , want you _now_ -” Atsumu murmured as he dragged Kiyoomi into another searing kiss. Kiyoomi shoved him backwards, forcing him to shuffle further up the bed until he was seated in the middle of the mattress. Hands almost shaking with eagerness, Kiyoomi slid his hands under the soft plaid of his skirt and shoved down his underwear, sliding off the bed for a moment to kick it off. Atsumu’s eyes were on him, hungry and beseeching.

He gestured to himself. “So?”

“Keep the outfit on, come on, ya know how much I love it,” Atsumu said, words more a growl than anything else, hands already reaching to manhandle him back onto the bed. Kiyoomi nodded eagerly and seated himself back on Atsumu’s lap happily, pressing kisses to his mouth as the blond fumbled for the bottle of lube, holding it up questioningly. “Ya want me to try and do it? Or-”

“I’ll do it,” Kiyoomi said, taking it from him and slicking up his fingers, watching as Atsumu fumbled with his pants, removing his belt before hastily unzipping them and shoving them down, briefly lifting Kiyoomi up off him to kick them off his ankles. Kiyoomi was sliding a finger inside himself as Atsumu discarded his boxers as well, working quickly to fit more in as Atsumu watched him and stroked his length languidly.

“Wanted to do this since yer birthday, ya know, since before that day backstage” Atsumu murmured, reaching for and unwrapping a condom as Kiyoomi fucked himself on his fingers, the fabric of his skirt tickling where it was still shoved up around his hips, “ya looked so good in every damn practice, felt so good when we messed around in my car-”

“Hurry up and enjoy me then,” he breathed, pulling out his fingers and wiping them on the comforter beside him as Atsumu rolled the condom on. “Fuck, hurry up-”

Strong hands gripped his thighs again, tugging him forward until he could feel the head of Atsumu’s cock pressing against his entrance. A steadying hand pressed into his waist. “Ya sure?”

Kiyoomi nodded, rapid-fire and eager, which was all the confirmation the other boy needed to align them properly and gently pull on his hips. Kiyoomi sunk down, taking his length in with a gasp, rocking his hips to aid the gentle inward thrust until he was properly seated again, heat bubbling away in his gut. He took a moment to adjust. The length and feel were somewhat familiar, from days spent with very inconspicuous delivery packages, but the sheer heat of having another human buried inside him made him keen.

Eventually, Kiyoomi’s body had relaxed fully around the intrusion, and he braced his hands on the mattress either side of Atsumu’s head, painstakingly lifting and lowering his hips, starting to build a rhythm that pushed Atsumu’s cock in deep and slow. They both groaned, one of Atsumu’s hands moving to his knee, fiddling with the hem of the knee-high socks he was still wearing.

It was downright bizarre, to think a three-year long rivalry had been brought down by table-reads, a single musical number and a miniskirt. The two of them had started the year exchanging anger and glares, and were ending it with Kiyoomi crossdressing, Atsumu _inside_ him and moans tumbling free of both their mouths. He’d expected their extended time alone to result in a fistfight or two. Not in dating and certainly not in _fucking_.

Though, he wasn’t complaining. Atsumu shuffled, hands sliding under the skirt to grab the bare skin of his ass before planting his feet – still clad in those ridiculously attractive combat boots – on the mattress and thrusting up into him. Kiyoomi slid a hand to cup his jaw, sliding a thumb over Atsumu’s cheek as they rocked together.

All of the things he’d once despised in the other, his passion, tenacity, the sheer animated energy with which he took to each and every task…they were now things he could only look at with admiration. He shifted his hands upwards, to thread through Atsumu’s hair. He pulled the other boy into a sitting position, pressing a much gentler kiss to his mouth. Strong arms wrapped around him, endlessly comforting as their bodies moved together and teeth scraped their way up the side of his neck.

Kiyoomi pulled back, leaning their foreheads together as his movements sped up a little. He had strong thighs from years of sport, but after their performance tonight, plus all the walking and dancing they’d done earlier at the party, he was already starting to tire a little. He braced his hands on Atsumu’s abdominals, determinedly bouncing on his cock.

“Yer stamina’s shit,” Atsumu laughed, once again manhandling him up and down. Kiyoomi glared at him, huffing as his body clenched around the cock inside him. But there was no mocking in Atsumu’s eyes, just light-hearted affection that he melted under. “Come here.”

He fell back into Atsumu’s embrace easily, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck as he was suddenly being lifted. Atsumu flipped them over, so Kiyoomi’s back was against the mattress. The blond propped himself up with a smug grin, spreading Kiyoomi’s legs wide before pushing back inside with a soft sigh. Kiyoomi hummed in satisfaction, content to hook his ankles together behind Atsumu’s back as each thrust both filled his heart with warmth and sent electric sparks dancing up his spine.

For as much as they both wanted the moment to last forever, teenage sexual stamina was nothing to be impressed by, and Kiyoomi quickly found himself wriggling and writhing, craving release. Atsumu saw his face, probably flushed with desperation, and just chuckled, dipping down to suck a hickey into his neck as he thrust in deep and wrapped a hand around Kiyoomi’s neglected cock.

“ _Hmmpf_ -” Kiyoomi groaned, bucking into the touch, breathing ragged. “Tsumu, Tsumu…”

Atsumu just kissed his neck again, jerking him a few times before Kiyoomi arched his back and moaned, splattering cum over Atsumu’s hand and the plaid of his skirt. Atsumu just groaned, slick fingers gliding across Kiyoomi’s stomach – when his shirt had ridden up, he didn’t know – and thrust a few more times before letting his full weight crumple onto him, a low whine escaping the blond’s mouth.

“Damn,” Atsumu muttered, wrapping his fingers around the base of the condom as he pulled out, removing and tying it off with movements that suggested theoretical as opposed to practical familiarity. Kiyoomi slid his legs shut, closing his eyes for a moment. “Ya alright?”

“I’m fine,” he murmured, turning on his side to snuggle into Atsumu’s warmth a little, smiling slightly when an arm draped itself over his waist. “Just tired.”

“Yer welcome.”

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, sitting up slightly to flick the other on the forehead, ignoring his cackles. “Oh, shut it. Don’t think I can’t hear your laboured breathing.” Atsumu just shrugged, smugly unapologetic as Kiyoomi sat up, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the mess on his stomach. “Ugh, I need to put these in the laundry.” He considered the rest of him, including where lube was smeared all over his inner thighs. “…And a shower, too.”

“Consider it done,” Atsumu said, sitting up, “ya can wear some of my stuff if ya want. We’re probably the same size. Oh!” he straightened up with a grin, “that reminds me, Suna left his DVD collection over here so we can also watch a movie, if ya want? I got snacks.”

Kiyoomi found a smile spreading back across his face, the burgeoning warmth in his stomach due to fondness rather than lust.

“Sounds good to me.”

Atsumu grinned, looking all for the world like an eager golden retriever. Kiyoomi sat up. “By the way, Atsumu?”

“Hmm?”

He placed his hand on his chest, smiling slightly as he recalled one of the closing lines to the scene that had properly brought them together. The dumb musical number that had helped transform their relationship so completely. “You were my first.”

Atsumu just smiled at him, full of warmth and happiness as he burrowed his head into Kiyoomi’s chest, complaining about how cheesy he was.

Kiyoomi had never felt more at home.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/2701Anubis), [Tumblr](https://anubis2701.tumblr.com/), or, if you're a fan of my fics generally, my [Discord Server!](https://discord.gg/VeAaGy3at9)


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